


Between Two Wars

by EviEthereal



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: ALEC BECOMES WHO HE'S ALWAYS BEEN, Acting head of the institute Alec lightwood, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood-centric, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, BAMF Alec Lightwood, BAMF Magnus Bane, Bad Parabatai Jace Wayland, Bad Parent Maryse Lightwood, Bad Parent Robert Lightwood, Bane Found Family Drama, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Clave Politics, Corporal Punishment, Corruption, Depression, Discrimination Against Downworlders, Downworld Politics, Eventual Immortal Husbands, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Good Parabatai Jace Wayland, Head of the Institute Alec Lightwood, Heavy Angst, High Warlock of Brooklyn Magnus Bane, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt Magnus Bane, Hurt/Comfort, Institutional Homophobia, Lightwood Family Drama, M/M, POV Alec Lightwood, POV Magnus Bane, PTSD, Parabatai Growth, Past & Present Child Abuse and Neglect, Personal Growth, Protective Alec Lightwood, Protective Lightwood Siblings, Protective Magnus Bane, Romantic Soulmates, Self-Harm, Self-Sacrificing Alec Lightwood, Self-Worth Issues, Sibling Relationship Growth, Society Growth & Change, TV-CANON APPEARANCES EXCEPT BLUE-EYED ALEC MAX ROBERT, The Incursion, The Mortal War, Torture, Worldbuilding: Military & Religion & Warlock Community, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EviEthereal/pseuds/EviEthereal
Summary: Alec Lightwood has always bent over backwards to fulfill the excessive expectations place on his shoulders. To be the perfect son, brother, soldier, and leader. To live up to the legacy of his ancestors. Not the type to disobey a direct order from a superior. One night, it all begins falling apart.Not for the first time in his life, Alec is forced to make difficult decisions, facing consequences, and ultimately straying from the fixed path. The new path is his only chance to survive as he’s been caught between two conflicts: a war of the heart and a war for society. Oh, then there’s the Incursion and the impending Mortal War, what else could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Andrew Underhill, Alec Lightwood & Isabelle Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Jace Wayland, Alec Lightwood & Maryse Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Max Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Original Character(s), Alec Lightwood & Robert Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 36
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Readers,
> 
> First and foremost, I want to thank all of my wonderful friends, who have constantly encouraged, supported, and motivated me through this long process. I want to thank my beta, Hittiske, for all her efforts in helping me. Everyone has been beyond invaluable and I love you all dearly.
> 
> I want to say that I'm happy that I've reached a point where I can post my first fic. This is basically a fic with canon when it suits me and chucking it to the side when it doesn't. This piece will be LONG, chapter-wise, and word count. I'm warning you all now that my chapters are lengthy. This is an ongoing fic that will be updated twice a month. I've also pre-written several chapters.
> 
> WARNINGS:
> 
> I will also be posting chapter-by-chapter warnings in my author's notes for all of you. 
> 
> In this chapter, I'm warning you that I've primarily stuck with TV Show appearances, but I have changed the eye colors of Alec, Robert, and Max Lightwood. I personally love both hazel-eyed Alec and blue-eyed Alec. Let's face it, I just love Alec Lightwood. 
> 
> My next warning is for language. My fic does contain cussing, especially from the Main POV-Alec. My last warning for this chapter is Alec's negative self-image, talk, thoughts, and feelings. I hope these warnings help keep everyone safe and sound. 
> 
> One thing, I don't want to see comments about constructive criticism, criticism, or general negativity. It's not helpful for me and honestly, it just hurts. Kudos and comments are lovely, greatly appreciated, and always welcome. 
> 
> Lastly,
> 
> I hope you enjoy my story and I'm excited to take this journey with all of you.
> 
> With all of my love,
> 
> Evi

August 3rd, 2016 10:14 am 

[9:14 am]

> **Izzy** : Where are you?

> **Izzy** : Did something happen with Jace?

> **Izzy** : Are you okay?

(1 missed call from Izzy)

[9:46 am]

> **Jace** : Dude, where did you run off to?

[10: 02 am]

> **Max** : Where r u? R u still making pancakes?

_Fuck, it’s been over two hours_.

_I shouldn’t have put my phone on silent_.

 _That was a stupid mistake_.

Alec panted as his head fell backward onto his shoulders, hands on his hips, stuck between peace and defeat. Sweat rolled in droplets down his skin and his clothes clung to him, sticky to the touch. A blessed burning in his lungs and legs, desirable against the darkness. Breathing deeply, relaxing his strained muscles. _Finally_. For a few precious moments, his mind was utterly _silent_. 

These days it seemed the only way to obtain relief from the strains of his life were by pushing his physical limits. Every day that _target_ seemed to be getting gradually harder and harder to reach. Soon, would it be out of his reach entirely? As the burning numbed, it was replaced by a deep and widespread ache. Not the mere aching of exhaustion or strain. Nor any kind of physical pain, but rather a deep-seated one within his heart.

Every day since he was twelve it threatened to swallow him whole and escape was only _temporary_.

The peace and quiet of his reprieve was broken by the shrieking of mundane children. A reminder that life went on, whether one wanted it to or not.

_You can’t outrun the pain._

_Or who you are_.

A familiar weight settled on his shoulders. Unconsciously, he stretched out his long limbs, preparing himself for the run back to his life. Back to the Institute. Here, he was just another runner in Central Park, not a Shadowhunter. There weren’t any expectations, pressure, or temptation. It was _simple_. There was only one choice, run. In the end, the consequence was a blessed burning inside, the runner’s high.

At the New York Institute, everything was complicated. He was the eldest son of Robert and Maryse Lightwood. He was expected to live up to the great Lightwood legacy. By day he had to be the perfect son, heir, and leader. Once the sun fell into night, he was expected to be the protector and the soldier. Along with his team, Jace and Izzy, they hunted demons and protected mundanes from the Shadow world. Or rather they used to before Alec rose too _high_ in the ranks of the Clave’s military and political ranking. According to his parents, it was no longer appropriate for him to be in the field. He was expected to behave like a _leader_.

No matter how hard he worked, trained, or fought it wasn’t enough. He was always _unsatisfactory_. He couldn’t ever rise quick enough to reach the expectations of his parents. 

And yet, somehow, his adoptive brother Jace Wayland was perfect. He was revered by Robert and Maryse, and the exemplary shadowhunter that they were all expected to be. He was enough. All of his brother’s imperfections didn’t matter because he was what a shadowhunter was supposed to be, a fierce warrior. Not once, not even in the darkest depths of his heart had he ever blamed Jace for the unequal expectations. Never. It wasn’t his fault or anybody else’s that Alec was never good enough or that he never would be. A simple truth.

The truth was that he wasn’t strong, fast, or clever enough. That he wasn’t deadly or fierce enough. Not disciplined enough. That was Alec’s deficiency and no one else’s. At least if his parents’ focus was on perfecting their eldest it lifted the burden off of his siblings. That kept Alec going on his darkest days.

_I’m doing this for-_

_Jace, Izzy, and Max_.

 _For my family_.

Alec admired Jace in more ways than he was willing to admit. Though it wasn’t any of his traits as a soldier that he cherished above all else. Jace **chose** him to be his parabatai.

Being parabatai, a life-long bond given by the Angels, was a rarity among his people now. So rare, that it’s thought to be dying out. Shadowhunters struggled to find a parabatai before they aged out. To find one at all was a sacred blessing, and one you could only have once. Alec has never met another parabatai pair in his life, not even one in the six months he spent away from the Institute when he was eighteen. In battle, the pair made each other stronger, faster, and fiercer than they could ever be alone. They fought as _one_.

 _I’d die for Jace and he’d die for me_.

Being bonded was the highest honor of his life.

_He’s my brother, my best friend, my parabatai._

_I can’t live without him_.

No bond or relationship in the world was stronger than one between parabatai. For the Angel’s sake, most Nephilim couldn’t understand the bond between parabatai let alone Downworlders or Mundanes. There was no relationship like it. Alec could always feel Jace. His life force, especially. There was always a **connection** between Jace and him, and he could feel all of his parabatai’s emotions in the moment. If anything were to happen, he’d know it. Whether it was like this for every parabatai pair, only the Angel knew. He preferred to believe that the bond between him and Jace was _special_.

Alec placed a hand on his hip right above where his parabatai rune laid permanently etched into his skin. He could feel Jace. It didn’t matter how many miles laid between them. No matter how far away they were from one another, their bond was strong enough to stretch the distance. He truly believed no distance was too far. Nothing could come between them and nothing would break their bond. A hint of unease and worry trickled through and into their soul.

_I need to return to my family-_

_And to Jace_.

Freedom was so fleeting. Was it so selfish to not want to overthink everything? Even if it was only temporary? Alec knew he couldn’t stay away forever but he needed relief once in a while. He needed to release some of the pressure otherwise he was going to _break_. Sooner rather than later. What other choices did he have? Absolutely none.

_Shit._

_I’m getting distracted again_.

Alec clicked the lock button on his phone and checked the time, **10:21 am**. His parents and Max arrived back at the Institute over an hour ago. He missed greeting Max, who had been gone nearly three months studying abroad at the Mumbai Institute. _I can’t believe I missed it_.

 _This isn’t like me_.

Alec’s chest tightened and his stomach churned uncomfortably. The day had only just begun and he already felt his failures stacking up and piling on the ever-present weight that lived on his shoulders.

First, he failed Jace by not being able to control his own emotions.

_I can’t have feelings for Jace._

_I made my choice a long time ago_.

Second, he failed to live up to his parents’ expectations, again. He was supposed to greet them as their eldest but also as the acting Head of the Institute. 

_I screwed up_.

 _What kind of leader does that_?

And worst of all, he missed welcoming Max home like a good older brother was supposed to be.

 _Angel, he must think I don’t care_.

All these failures only happened because he was being selfish. He needed a break and took a run in Central Park. He was running away from his troubles and it cost him. Every choice and action had consequences. It wasn’t on purpose, but intention hardly mattered. It didn’t make it right and it sure as hell didn’t make him feel better.

There was only one thing he could salvage today, Max requested pancakes and this wasn’t going to be another thing he messed up.

_I hope pancakes will be enough to show him-_

_That I’m sorry_.

A simple amends for his failure, and he prayed that it would be _enough_.

Out of all his mistakes, it was the only one he had a solution for. 

_What the hell am I going to do about Jace_?

7:41 am

_I can’t believe him, he missed our training session._

_And for what_?

Alec stood, arms crossed, at the entrance to the small training center on the first floor of the Institute. A tension budding underneath the skin and deep into the muscles of his shoulders and neck, and he resisted the urge to roll his shoulder blades to relieve the pressure. It seemed Jace was _too_ _busy_ to grace him with his presence at their training session earlier. _I can’t believe him_.

He watched the blonde fluidly perform the foundational forms with his seraph blade. As the forms’ complexity increased, Jace’s muscles bulged under the effort. The younger man’s muscles had clear definition and complimented by a thin layer of glistening sweat against his skin. Jace’s golden locks were damp and messy. It was his eyes that caught Alec’s attention the most, they were heterochromatic. Mostly an intense blue, but there was a fraction in the lower part of his left iris that was a deep brown. Those eyes were haughty and fiercely focused on an invisible enemy, and they made Alec’s stomach do summersaults.

A tightness constricted the muscles of his chest, his voice stolen by the dry lump in his throat, and for a moment a brief thought of his own hand grazing along those clearly defined muscles consumed his scattered attention. Only to be repaid by an overwhelming wave of shame. 

To this point in his life, there had only been _one_ person capable of making his mind and body betray him. No one else and that was the worst part of it. What if no one could compare? What if there was no one out there for Alec even if he could have the freedom of loving who he wanted? And yet, the only person of interest was someone he _knew_ he couldn’t have even before their ceremony. The air of the small training center was heavy and not from the lingering body odor. Alec could only tug at the tight collar of his t-shirt trying to relieve the pressure, his skin prickling.

_Stop. Stop it._

_You can’t be thinking like this._

_It’s wrong._

_It’s against the rules_.

Alec’s chest squeezed his lungs, leaving him out of breath. As if he was being punished for having thoughts of his parabatai like this. He couldn’t break away his eyes and couldn’t break his train of thought. Useless. Every switch of the forms was too much. _Shit_.

_I need to stop._

_He can’t see the way I look at him._

_No one can see_.

Alec broke his attention off of his parabatai, and pulled them up to his eye level.

“Jace” Alec called out, interrupting the other’s training, and ultimately unable to deal with the tormenting thoughts or their consequences any longer.

“What’s up, buddy?” Jace answered, swinging his blade in fluid circles.

“You’re late and you missed _our_ training session. We were scheduled to train at five” Alec complained.

“I was _busy_. I had a late night.”

“You’re shameless. It’s our duty to train on our off-time. We’re soldiers. We need to be disciplined and prepared. We don’t have time to waste.”

“Lighten up, I was _working_ _out_ in a very enjoyable way.”

“I don’t want to hear another story of your sex life” Alec groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to get an active sex life. You might actually _enjoy_ it” Jace retorted mockingly.

_I can’t._

_I can’t risk losing my chance at becoming Head of the Institute one day._

_I’m not the only gay shadowhunter but-_

_I’m only tolerated because I’m hiding that part of who I am._

The Clave tolerated same-sex relationships, to an extent. Same-sex marriage has been legal in the United States since 2015. Thus they were recognized in the Institutes of the U.S. It was similar in countries where it was legal, and in Idris. Legal didn’t mean accepted or welcome. They were highly frowned upon especially since the disappearance of the Mortal Cup.

Without it, there was no way to make new shadowhunters and the Clave was fully dependent on nuclear families and heterosexual marriages to further bloodlines and create new soldiers for its endless war against demons. The Incursion. 

They couldn’t afford to have their _scarce_ numbers diminish any further. Most shadowhunters like him kept that part of their lives hidden like a dirty secret. Alec wasn’t ashamed anymore of being attracted to men, just to his parabatai. A brief time of freedom away from his parent’s influence when he was eighteen had been the saving grace he needed for a level of self-acceptance. Now, at twenty-one, he felt settled in the truth that life wasn’t fair. 

_I’ll never be able to have what I want._

_I can only have what’s allowed_.

Alec knew it was only a matter of time before _that_ family became his future, but it would allow him to obtain his dreams. The alternative wasn't an option. No one had, to his knowledge, come out and reached any powerful positions. If he couldn’t have love, then he was sure as hell going to become the Head of the New York Institute.

Was that as high as ambitions for him went? Hell no, his parents wanted him to become a member of the Council, Inquisitor, and then Consul one day. Alec had no desire to further his status within the Clave, only desiring to be the Head of the Institute. Not that his parents knew _that_. It was the only thing he wanted that he could have.

_I’ve come to accept this._

_I thought I’d gotten rid of these feelings for Jace._

_Apparently, I was wrong_.

Alec tightened his fists at his side until his knuckles whitened under the strain. It took everything he had to keep his eyes looking past his parabatai and to squash the burning frustration and pesky feelings within him. The palms of his hands stung against the air as he released his grip, the crescent-shaped marks pressed deeply into his calloused skin. The stinging helped, it focused his mind on something physical rather than the raging storm forming inside. Alec’s eyes flicked onto Jace, who looked amused and yet as _oblivious_ as usual.

_I’m drowning._

_Can’t you see that_?

_It’s my fault…_

_I’m the one that muted my side of our bond. How can we be so close and distant?_

_What is wrong with me_?

Another simple truth was this person, his _parabatai_ was the one and only person in the world he trusted with his life and soul, but he trusted no one with his pain. And in a way, they were identical as Jace had a _past_ he never spoke of and Alec knew better than to ask...only to _listen_ to what was offered and extend endless support in return. There was a level of _secrecy_ and _understanding_ between them that wasn’t mutually exclusive, the kind derived from something dark and deep-seated. A soul of a survivor recognizing another survivor. 

Nothing and no one, past or present, had ever impacted their bond, their love, or their devotion for one another. They were simply two soldiers bonded into one for a lifetime. Despite all of this, Alec knew this fight against his darkest depths was one he truly faced alone. 

At times where his anxiety cut him sharply, Jace could sense the trouble within his parabatai, and together they conquered, to live and fight another day. Always. And yet, the cause was always left unspoken and maybe that is how it still held control after all these years. Alec’s storms were his own, his responsibility, something he had grown accustomed to, and he refused to force his parabatai into a constant state of suffering because he couldn't control his own damn emotions. Jace had experienced too much already.

So he only offered what he could, a trickling stream of his experience whereas Jace offered him _everything_ , every last drop. It wasn't fair, but it was his choice to make. One he made _for_ his parabatai. As far as he knew, his brother wasn’t aware that the bond could be muted or completely shut off. Maybe that was for the best.

One problem for the pair was Alec’s pesky feelings. He knew his brother technically didn’t do feelings or emotions, despite their bond contradicting that lie. If there was one thing he knew about Jace, it was that the ghost from his past tainted his ideas on love. It had taken Alec years to show his parabatai that love wasn’t a weapon and that he was _worthy_ of being loved no matter who he was and whatever mistakes he made. Now were these feelings he experienced around Jace a sign of love? He wasn’t certain as he never experienced being in love with anyone. 

_It wouldn’t matter if I was._

_He’s my parabatai._

It wasn’t that Jace avoided _all_ emotions, no one could. He had slips like any shadowhunter, but he pretended the emotions didn’t exist until they didn’t. A common lesson ingrained in the heart of the Nephilim. Somehow self-repression and self-denial equaled discipline and strength. Any signs of cracking or breaking was a personal and moral weakness. Not a societal one.

To be truthful, Alec wasn’t sure what wounded him more about all of this mess with Jace. Was it that he could never feel the same way about him? Or that he couldn’t understand the turmoil this caused?

_It’s against the rules to fall in love with your parabatai._

_Punishable by separation._

_I can’t risk losing him._

_He’s part of me._

“Are you thinking about it?” Jace asked teasingly, raising his eyebrows suggestively, grinning.

_Dammit Jace_.

“I don’t have time for this” Alec replied curtly, and spun out of the training room, leaving his sweaty parabatai behind.

He needed to escape. The familiar whirlpool of frustration….and desire swelled. It was one of those moments where the unrequited feelings were _torturous_.

 _Why would he ever want you_?

 _He’s out of your league_.

_You’re weak._

_You’re selfish._

_You’re inferior_.

_You desire more than you can have and definitely more than you deserve_.

Alec’s heart pounded painfully in his chest, his breathing quick and shallow. His lungs begging for air. There wasn’t enough air. Not in this hallway. Not in the entire fucking Institute. He was being suffocated by the place that was supposed to be his home. He swore he could feel the walls closing in on him, leaving him dizzy and nauseous, his thoughts racing a mile a minute until he couldn’t focus on _anything_. He placed his hand out on the wall, needing something still and steady, the same wall that divided the ops center to the back of the Institute that contained the small training center, weapons room, and the war room. _Please-_.

_I can’t be here._

_I need to get out._

_I need to get out before anyone sees me like this_.

11:06 am

_Crap._

_It shouldn’t be this hard to move my own feet._

Alec stood motionless at the base of the steps of the Institute. His feet were securely fixed to the marble beneath them. The Institute erected before him was a magnificent, pale gothic church that rose proud against the blue skyline of the pleasant park grounds. A secret beauty of the Shadow world, as to the mundanes that walked through its grounds everyday it only _appeared_ to be an abandoned church that had fallen under disrepair, condemned by the city for dangerous conditions. A pity really. A true treasure that was left to appear dilapidated and forgotten by the world over time. _Not everything is as it seems_.

A hint of disappointment trickled in at his own hesitation and weakness pooled in his stomach. Alec sighed, shoved the negative feelings down deep, collecting himself. He took his first step up onto the stairway of the church, and another after that. Slowly ascending, he straightened his posture, straightened his shoulders, and lifted his chin. Preparing to be who he was born to be.

_No turning back now._

_I’m not just Alec-_

_I’m Alec Gideon Lightwood_.

At the top of the stoop, a looming set of heavy wooden doors taunted him. Reminding him that he was only _pretending_ to belong, to be what everyone thought he was: a perfect son, soldier, and leader. As he entered, the door **thudded** behind him, every step towards the ops center echoed in his ears. Every set of eyes were on him, though it didn’t last as the curiosity dimmed and everyone carried on back to work, to fulfill their busy schedules.

It left the room in a steady stream of **clicking** , **whirring** , and **chatter**. All of it familiar and strangely settling. The residual worry that pooled in his stomach the last few hours seeped out and for now, he didn’t need to worry whether anyone saw his weakness or discovered his secret. For all his worry, the only thing reflected in the eyes of those around him was the devotion and deference belonging to a set of soldiers to their leader.

_Thank the Angel._

_No one saw._

_No one knows_.

Alec attempted to pass through the ops center to the catwalk on the right when a familiar voice anchored him in place.

“Alec! You’re back! Did you go out on a run?” Max asked, his bright blue eyes beaming up at his older brother.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. I-I didn’t mean to miss you. Still up for those pancakes?” Alec asked softly, clasping onto his tiny shoulder.

“Can you make pancakes with chocolate chips?”

“Anything you want, but I need to go see our parents _first_. I’ll meet you in the kitchen as soon as I can” Alec assured as he squeezed tenderly and a wave of warmth filled him.

“Alec?”

“Yeah, buddy?” 

“I’m glad to be home, I missed you” Max admitted, throwing his arms quickly around his eldest brother, tightly, before releasing as if he didn’t want to be seen clinging onto the man who raised him.

“Not as much as I missed you” Alec confessed, ruffling his brother’s dark locks as he ascended the catwalk and turned to walk towards their parents’ office.

Every step took him one step closer to the one place he should run from and never look back, if only out of self-preservation. With every step closer, he raised up his d _efenses_ …every barrier erected was one chance less of breaking under the pressure of the attacks he was certain were waiting behind that door. His parents weren’t known for being forgiving or understanding, especially not when it came to him. His posture stiffened, muscles tensed, and his jaw clenched. 

Every cell of his body prepared for the worst. If he expected the nightmare then just maybe he wouldn’t be controlled by the fear. For the sake of everyone under his care, he couldn’t allow his parents to see the cracks in his composure, especially the ones they were responsible for.

_I’m not going to break._

_I can’t._

_I need to keep moving forward_.

= = = = = =

_Breathe._

_I can do this_.

Alec forced himself to take one last deep breath at the heavy wooden door blocking his access to the office of the Heads of the Institute. Until this morning, it had technically been _his_ office for the past six months while his parents had been away on Clave business, as he was the acting Head of the Institute under his parents’ order. He **knocked** firmly, and waited.

“Come in,” Maryse commanded. 

Alec entered, the familiar stale scent of leather and aged paper filled his nose. A new smell lingered in the air, smoke. By the desk, his mother, Maryse Lightwood, stood and held a cigarette between her fingers. For the moment, his father was _missing_. Even then, there was something off and the air felt _tense_. As he approached the opposite side of the desk from his mother, he kept his posture perfect and his arms dutifully folded behind his back in the position of parade rest. Eyes kept forward, and his mask impassive. A soldier through and through.

“Good morning, Mother,” Alec greeted formally.

“ _Alec-_ ” Maryse breathed, the relief apparent, and the strain around her dark brown eyes and pursed lips relaxing. In a matter of seconds, she looked years younger, and yet that didn’t take away her strength of character. Not to Alec.

“What’s wrong?” Alec questioned, eyebrows furrowing and brisk blue eyes flashing with worry.

“It’s nothing you need to be concerned about” Maryse retorted tersely.

_Nothing my ass._

_She’s keeping me at a distance. Why_?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m afraid not, but we’re not staying long. I need you to continue acting as Head of the Institute in our stead. We’re needed back in Idris. Can you do that?” Maryse requested formally, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

“Yes, of course. When you do leave?”

“We will be leaving first thing tomorrow morning. I don’t know when we will return. You’re responsible for Jace, Isabelle, and Max while we’re away.”

“I’ll deal with it” Alec answered dutifully, “Why is the Clave calling you back to Idris?”

“I’m following orders-” Maryse replied.

Alec turned his head towards the door as the heavy door **creaked** open, revealing his stocky father walking in. _Shit_.

“What the Clave wants from us is no business of yours, boy. Better to keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong” Robert retorted distantly, a vein popping out on his forehead, a deep frown set on his lips, and his blue eyes glinted warningly.

Maryse turned towards the stained glass window as if to stare out at the grounds below, remaining completely silent with her back facing her husband, and her lips strained into a tight line.

_What’s going on with them?_

_Mom’s upset._

_What’s going on with the Clave?_

_Is there something going on between father and her_?

“Are you here to _apologize_ for your failure?” Robert questioned emotionlessly.

Alec swore it would’ve hurt less to have been struck. And yet, he should’ve expected nothing less from the callous Robert Lightwood. Nothing was ever good enough to make the man smile, at least as far as he was concerned. He knew that Izzy was his father’s _favorite_. Daddy’s girl. He never failed to bring her a gift whenever he returned from his frequent long disappearances. Then there was Jace and Max. For whatever reason, Robert gave him nothing more than disapproving silence, scorn, or anger. Somehow he just knew that Alec wasn’t the son he wanted.

 _Every time I hope that something will be different and I find only disappointment_.

“I am. I apologize for my behavior. It was inappropriate, irresponsible, and selfish” Alec emphasized every one of his faults, “I’m a leader. I know better. I accept the consequences of my actions as you see fit.”

“It sounds to me like you’ve had _time_ to rehearse that speech” Robert scoffed severely.

“I won’t make the mistake again” Alec insisted, hoping that his father would believe him just this once. 

“Don’t expect to appease me because you _promise_ to be better. As far as I’m concerned, your promise is nothing but empty words.”

_Fuck._

_He’s in a bad mood._

_Why is he so angry_?

“I don’t expect anything,” Alec answered, keeping his voice as steady as possible. 

_I can’t show him I’m nervous or uncomfortable._

_It will only make this worse_. 

_It will only make him worse_.

“As for your consequences, I expect that you’ll spend an additional two hours training after patrol tonight. Do you understand?”

“I understand. It will be done, sir.”

“Don’t think you’re forgiven. You _humiliated_ us. You are a disappointment. We raised you to be a better man than this” Robert criticized coldly, not once making eye contact with Alec, almost like he was _invisible_. And naturally, Maryse said absolutely _nothing_.

For the rest of their meeting, or rather for the rest of his father’s lecture, Alec spent it in silence listening to the unnecessary reminders of his duty to the Angel, the Clave, and the family legacy. Reminding him it was his responsibility to represent the best of their family without error. He was expected to be a strong leader and to stomp out any signs of his own weakness without hesitation. He was to remain calm and collected. He was to be efficient and not dare stray from the Clave’s mandates. The Law is _hard_ but it is the Law. The operation of the Institute and its four other branches within the city were his responsibility to run appropriately and effectively or he would be removed from his position. If Alec wasn’t perfect, they would find his replacement. No one was allowed to humiliate them, especially not in front of the politicians of Idris.

And without a hint of hesitation or remorse, a reminder that Alec was responsible for the actions of his siblings or rather their _mistakes_. It hardly mattered that Jace and Izzy were of legal age not when it came down to their actions impacting the family reputation. An expectation that Alec took on to protect his siblings, but at least he knew it was only a ploy. A tool to control him, to keep him in line and on their path. If he was responsible for his siblings and their actions, any and all problems they caused could be used against Alec.

And then there was his _personal favorite_ , the ever-present threat to not disappoint them. A _reminder_ that this freedom of being unsupervised came with strings attached and those strings were out of his hands. If he disappointed them enough, the consequences alone could impact his future for years to come. 

As if feeling not enough was bad, a hint that his success was due to _their_ actions...like he owed a life debt to them. For the first time in months, Alec was dismissed from the office feeling heavy, empty, and like the days he spent as a Cadet.

= = = = = = 

Alec blinked numbly, staring at the brass plaque, a nameplate on a set of double doors of the finest dark walnut. Alexander Gideon Lightwood. If he was being honest, he couldn’t remember walking through the catwalks, the ops center, or the elevator ride up to the fourth floor where the bedrooms of his family were reserved. He couldn’t remember the faces he passed or the voices he heard. Nothing. 

A tension made itself home in his shoulders and neck and the exhaustion found its way into his heart. Behind his eyes, a steady ache settled as if he needed the reminder of the stress this day wrecked on….everything. He attempted to soothe the ache by pressing the pads of his thumbs and rubbing soothing circles between the bridge of his nose and his brow line only occasionally shifting position. A hot shower could help, but he didn’t have the time to indulge in that when he was already late meeting his youngest sibling. 

Taking out his keys, Alec unlocked his bedroom door and pushed it open, before pocketing the keys where his hand lightly brushed against the adamas beads of his prayer string. If his parents weren’t staying the night, Alec would consider visiting the Institute’s sanctuary in the basement, his favorite place in the entire church. A place for peace and blessed silence. He unconsciously rolled the beads against his skin, wrapping the string around his fingers and finding it not only soothing but a sense of strength he needed to repair the damage of his parents homecoming. A steady hold on his bicep broke his attention away.

“Izzy” Alec exhaled, the muscles of his arm relaxing at her touch, though if he was being truthful he wasn’t fond of people touching him. 

_Crap._

_I didn’t even notice she was approaching me._

“There you are, big brother. Did you just get back?” Izzy questioned, her dark eyes piercing through his skin and _examined_ him as if he was one of her science experiments or maybe just checking to see if he was _whole_.

“No, I’ve been in a meeting with our parents,” Alec replied. 

“I heard a rumor that you stormed off on Jace. Did something happen between the two of you?”

“Jace missed our training session this morning” Alec answered briefly, and resisting the faint urge to rant his guts out to his sister.

“Are you angry because he blew you off? Or are you angry about something else?” Izzy asked knowingly, and that look in her dark eyes left Alec’s skin prickling, completely exposed.

“I’m angry that I’m the only responsible adult around here” Alec snapped forcefully, pulling his arm out of his sister’s grip.

“Alec, stop. You’re bottling things up again. I can help you,” Izzy said softly, reaching out to take his hand in-between both of hers and squeezing softly. Through that touch, Alec’s body flooded with shame and remorse. A toxic combination for his battered heart.

_How can I do this to her?_

_Why do I keep her at a distance?_

_All she’s ever done is support me._

_Why can’t I open up to her-to anyone anymore_?

 _What’s wrong with me_?

Alec could practically feel the cracking of the walls around his heart. An aching in his chest reminded him of yet another _failure_ he made in his life. The blame for the distance between them belonged solely to him. 

“I’m _fine_. I just needed a run. Jace is just being Jace” Alec sighed.

“It’s okay if there’s something else that you’re upset about” Izzy pressed.

It was clear that she was trying to get him to open up, inviting vulnerability. However he felt so far away, that the distance between them felt exhausting to take in his condition. Was the distance even traversable anymore? Life was far different from when they were growing up...he was _different_. 

“Don’t read into things that aren’t there” Alec snapped and crossed into the threshold of his room, closing the door firmly in her face, to use it as a wall between them.

He wasn’t certain why, but he needed her to go away. It was too painful watching her try to help him and he wasn’t ready to confront his problems with anyone.

_I can’t tell her that this stupid childhood crush is back._

_That I can’t control it_.

 _That her older brother is this fucking weak_.

Alec waited with his full weight braced against the door and _eventually_ the **clicking** of his sister’s high heels receded down the hallway. He allowed his shoulders to slump under the weight as he slid down onto the floor. His knees curled into his chest and he let his head fall back against the door with a hard **thump**. 

_I’m alone, finally_.

Only through a brief break from his life, could he manage to cover the cracks in his composure after the brutal verbal battering by his father and the telling silence of his mother. Only they could manage to make Alec feel so _small_ and insignificant. This wasn’t selfish, it was self-preservation. If he was to survive, he needed this. He couldn’t break when his family and his soldiers counted on him everyday.

_I can do this._

 _I can get back up_.

= = = = = = 

Alec clicked the lock button on his phone to check the time, **1:07 pm**. It had taken far too long for him to collect and mend the cracks. Twenty minutes, actually.

_I need to get to the kitchen._

_I can’t keep Max waiting any longer._

For now, this would need to be enough, Alec stood and straightened his posture unconsciously. He left his bedroom, locking the door, and headed toward the elevator. It didn’t take more than a few minutes to reach the Institute’s industrial kitchen on the second floor. A muffled murmuring reached his ears as he stood at the door, he hesitated to walk in, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. The voices were familiar, Izzy and Jace’s. Maybe if he wasn’t tired, he would have some interest in what was being said, but right now he couldn’t care less. Alec pushed the doors open and entered. The immediate silence was revealing. _They were talking about me_.

Jace and Izzy were huddled around the coffee machine, while Max was sitting at the counter with an open book and his headphones on. He seemed lost in the story. It wasn’t a coincidence that Jace and Izzy were here the moment he showed up, they were _waiting_ for him and not likely for pancakes. 

Alec tapped Max on the shoulder as he passed, indicating to his brother to take his headphones off.

“You still want chocolate chip pancakes?” Alec asked, avoiding eye contact with his other siblings, attempting a semblance of normalcy. A rather _pathetic_ one.

“Yes, please” Max answered politely, “Can you use extra chocolate chips?”

“For you, I _guess_ I could add extra,” Alec replied, forcing a faint smile on his lips.

“Iz mentioned that you had a meeting with Robert and Maryse. What was it about?” Jace questioned, unknowingly breaking _one_ of the too few good moments he was blessed with today.

 _Crap_.

Alec remained silent, unwilling to answer a rather invasive question, and one he wanted to avoid having in front of their youngest sibling. Max was too young to understand the complicated relationship his older siblings had with their parents. Even though they made his life a living hell for as long as he can remember, a part of him still seeked their approval and their…. _love_. 

The only way he could avoid answering was to busy himself by gathering the ingredients for pancakes. Once they were collected, he added the dry components into a bowl before adding the wet and thoroughly mixing it together. Once he was satisfied, he folded the chocolate chips into the batter. Turning away from his siblings, Alec readied the stove and pan, trying to buy as much time as he could possibly manage. He knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, but he needed to gather his thoughts and his words carefully.

_What should I say?_

_Should I report the typical?_

_Should I tell them that I think our parents are hiding something_?

“Our parents aren’t remaining here, they leave for Idris in the morning. While they are gone, I’m the acting Head of the Institute and I’m responsible for all of you” Alec admitted.

“They haven’t even been home one full day!” Max complained.

“Clave’s orders” Alec countered, not willing to admit to his brother that their parents likely preferred their life in Idris to New York. A place that for over a decade they had not stepped foot in. Why? Alec had no idea.

“Did you receive a lecture?” Izzy asked tentatively, her brow furrowed.

“No more than usual. I’m _fine_. I screwed up by not being here when they arrived. I expected there to be consequences” Alec said as he poured the first cup of pancake batter into the pan and listened tentatively for the right time to flip it.

“Consequences? Are they punishing you? For going on a run? That’s ridiculous!” Jace argued fiercely, resisting the urge to slam his coffee cup onto the stainless steel counter.

“What do you have to do?” Izzy asked steadily, her eyes unwavering.

“Our father wants me to put in a few extra hours of training after our patrol” Alec admitted compliantly.

“Alec, that’s not fair. You already log more hours than anyone else and that doesn’t include training time” Izzy sighed, frowning.

 _Life’s not fair_. 

_I’ve accepted that_.

“I can’t drop. I’ll use a stamina rune if I need to” Alec replied resolutely, no one would change his mind on this.

“This is bullshit! For once, Alec, don’t do everything you’re ordered to do” Jace protested passionately, his face flushing a bright red. He knew his parabatai wasn’t angry with him, but it didn’t make any of this easier to bear.

“How about I train with you?” Izzy offered, attempting a gentler approach than Jace’s abrasive antics.

Alec plated up a small stack of pancakes and set them before Max, along with the maple syrup and powdered sugar, his brother’s favorites.

“I’ll be fine on my own. It’s not a big deal” Alec assured, firmly.

8:02 pm

Alec stood in the weapons room readying his gear. Alone. He ran his stele over his arrows, checking that the runes etched by the Iron Sisters were functioning and activated. Along with checking the runes, he looked over every arrow meticulously inspecting the arrow heads, shafts, and the fletching. He wouldn’t risk any of the arrows being faulty. At best it was useless, and at worst a liability. He wouldn’t risk his team’s lives on faulty equipment.

Normally, he found the process of readying his gear a relaxing routine. Today, he was uneasy. It wasn’t the expectations or the pressure, nor was it being chewed out by his parents. Not his failures or faults. A restlessness stirring in his stomach. _Something_ was coming and he wasn’t certain if it was good or bad. The only thing he could compare it to was walking through the calm before a storm, a bad one. Maybe it was only shadowhunter paranoia. 

_When has my gut ever been wrong?_

After finding his gear satisfactory, he took the time to clean his bow. As he wiped it down, he took note of its condition. No chips or cracks. It was in nearly perfect order except for a few scuffs here and there from use. As he examined his bow, in his peripheral vision he saw two figures ascending the stairs into the weapons room. Victor and Raj. Alec lifted his defensive walls without hesitation though he hoped that they would choose instead to leave him alone. He doubted it.

“Lightwood” Aldertree greeted coolly.

_Shit_.

 _So much for peace and quiet_.

“Aldertree” Alec greeted politely enough, albeit he never took his eyes off of his bow and preparations.

Taking the time to check the bowstring for cuts or fraying of the tightly woven threads. He was satisfied by its functionality, Alec tucked the strung bow into the waterproof case and every arrow into his quiver. 

“Your parents told me of their plans to leave you in charge during their absence. Feels like _nepotism_ to me. You know, just because you’re their son doesn’t mean you will receive Head of the Institute upon their retirement, right?” Victor asked, sneering.

_Again with the jealousy, Victor, I thought we settled this._

_Apparently not_.

“It’s not that shocking. I’ve the experience. I have, effectively, run the Institute since I was fourteen. Now, if you weren’t compromised by jealousy you wouldn’t have the audacity to imply that I’m receiving unfair treatment” Alec retorted acidly.

“Careful, Lightwood, the higher you rise the harder you will fall” Aldertree growled.

“Is that a threat?” Alec asked, unimpressed.

“No, not a threat. I’m _offering_ you a historical observation” Aldertree said, a tight smile on his lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Whatever secrets those eyes hid, Alec couldn’t tell, as their owner was one of the _few_ people he couldn’t read. That was dangerous and a reminder that Alec kept close to his heart.

“Aldertree, don’t waste your breath on Lightwood. He’s already full of himself, I’m surprised the _crown_ fits at all” Raj sneered.

Alec tightened his grip on his holstered seraph dagger, distracting himself by securing it to his thigh. If he was being truthful, he knew Raj entered the room but until now he hadn’t paid him much thought. Not out of carelessness or arrogance. Rather, though the feelings of hostility filled the air, it wasn’t life-threatening. He didn’t want to waste his energy on the likes of these two. Not when he had so little energy for people left at his disposal.

The last piece of equipment he secured to his waist was a seraph blade. He took the blatant opportunity to ignore Victor and Raj, sending a _clear_ message to them that he thought they weren’t worth his time. The duo seethed at his disregard for their opinions, he could almost swear he saw steam coming out of their ears like the silly mundane cartoons that Max enjoyed as a toddler.

_They want me to lose my temper._

_They want proof that I’m unfit to lead._

_I won’t give them the satisfaction_.

After his blades were secured, his sheathed bow and quiver hanging over his shoulder he was almost ready to leave. Though he could feel their eyes trying to burn a hole into the side of his skull.

“Don’t you two have something better to do with your time than _gawking_ at me?” Alec asked, rolling his eyes, “Or do I need to locate someone to babysit you while I’m away?”

“Lightwood!” Aldertree yelled, and it was evident that he was using Alec’s name as a _curse_ and that he was embarrassed to be chastised by someone younger than him. Aldertree should’ve known better.

“I don’t have time for this” Alec said, securely fastening his arm guard and glove.

Afterwards he left without another word, knowing they were whispering about him but he simply didn't care. They weren’t worth the time or energy. Alec returned to the ops center, where his siblings were waiting by a large monitor, discussing the activity patterns of demons within the city. The sooner they got the patrol over, the sooner he could return. To take his punishment, and get to bed. Alec _needed_ this day to fucking end.

****

11:20 pm

On the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse, Alec walked along the edge with his bow out and directed towards the ground. Observing the demons gathered at the docks and approaching from multiple entry points.

_What are they doing gathering here?_

_There aren’t any mundanes around._

_They have no reason to be here._

Alec glanced over to the warehouse opposite from him where Jace and Izzy stood unmoving, both of them observing the scene below. He felt a pull from the parabatai rune on his hip. Jace was as uneasy about the strangeness of all this. It wasn’t the first patrol this week that they had come across demons _meeting_ in groups. Alec’s focus shifted as he saw the last demon approach the group below them. He counted eight demons, easy for the three of them to deal with.

“Everyone in position?” Jace whispered through their earpieces.

“In position, I spot eight. No mundanes. No downworlders. No more approaching from any of the exits” Alec said.

“Izzy, do your thing” Jace directed.

Izzy moved forward and gracefully jumped from the roof into a nearby alley where she carefully drifted into the demons’ view. Stumbling her weight around clumsily. She typically acted as the distraction for their team, as she found it _entertaining_.

 _Better her than me, I hate being the distraction_.

This time she was apparently drunk, lost, and in desperate need of directions back to the main road. As expected, these demons weren’t clever enough to not fall for the bait.

Alec watched as he drew up the bow, nocking the arrow into place before steadily drawing the bowstring back to his anchor point, aiming at the group of demons or specifically the big demon camouflaging as a bouncer. Not once taking his eyes off the _target_. A faint shift of the wind and he adjusted accordingly. The demons began to rustle in agitation, and Izzy’s distraction slowly unraveled. _They smell us_.

“Get ready.” 

Alec didn’t need his brother to count down, he didn’t need to look for the first flicker of his parabatai’s movement to know when it was _time_. He just knew. As one, Jace moved to attack face-to-face, Alec let his first arrow fly, and it landed squarely in the chest of the first demon, burning him from the inside out until all that remained was ash in the wind. _One_.

Alec wasted no time as he pulled another arrow from his quiver. Nocking the arrow into place, he marked his next target. The demon appeared to look like an ordinary college student, and was attempting to flee, realizing they were at the disadvantage. Taking a breath, he anchored the string near the corner of his mouth like he had done thousands of times before, and let the arrow fly where it found its target in the back of the demon. Like the first, the demon burst from within turning to ash. _Two_.

Alec took another arrow and nocked it into place.

_The one trying to attack Jace’s blindside._

Alec pulled the bowstring back, releasing it and watched his arrow plunge into the demon. _Three_.

For the briefest of moments, he caught his parabatai’s eye and felt a warmth from their bond. He knew that Jace was proud to fight by his side. They fought and protected each other, always. While he had been hunting his own demons, Izzy dispatched two demons with her whip, and Jace the rest with his seraph blade.

Alec took out his stele and activated his agility rune on his body before jumping off the roof and landing unharmed. Approaching his siblings who were wiping the black ichor off their weapons. He took out a cloth from his coat, retrieving his arrows from where they laid on the ground. He wiped the ichor off of the arrowheads and shafts of each arrow, before putting them back into a separate sleeve of his quiver.

“Anyone hurt?” Alec asked.

“Hell no, did you see me out there? They didn’t stand a chance” Jace grinned.

“I’m not injured either, they didn’t see us coming.” Izzy said almost as pleased as their brother.

 _I swear, these two are spending too much time together_. 

“Hell of a shot you took there with that demon trying to jump me,” Jace said proudly.

“Oh, _please_ , Alec could’ve made that shot with his eyes closed” Izzy replied.

Alec felt his pale cheeks warm, a blush rising on his cheeks. Thankfully, it was dark out, so his siblings couldn’t tease him for blushing. _I’ll never get used to this_. 

“Three go in, three come out,” Alec said with a flicker of a smile on his lips.

“HELL YEAH! Let’s get back to the Institute, call it a night” Jace said sheathing his seraph blade back into place.

= = = = = =

Alec, Jace, and Izzy arrived at the Institute sometime after midnight. His siblings trudged to the weapons room, dumped their weapons and gear, before heading upstairs for much-needed sleep.

 _I’m beat_.

In the weapons room, Alec carefully finished caring for his bow and put it back on the rack. Some shadowhunters would scoff at him for doing his own grunt work instead of just putting his weapons in a basket for a Recruit or Cadet to deal with, but Alec couldn’t help it.

_I can’t forget all the times my parents assigned me grunt work growing up._

_My weapons, my responsibility._

Once everything was clean and put away, he finally allowed himself to settle if only for a moment. He breathed deeply, ignoring the tight strain in his shoulders and neck. If he twisted or turned his neck it pulled painfully, worse than usual. If he spent the next two hours training in this condition it’s possible he could pull or even tear a muscle. That was the last fucking thing he needed right now. 

_If Jace was here, he’d tell me to skip the training._

_I can’t_...

Alec left the weapons room, taking the steps tentatively. He let his eyes wander over to the ops center as he easily passed through the room. It was empty compared to this morning’s crowd. The only people still awake were the night shift intel specialists and security. Any and all lingering patrols and missions would continue to return within the next few hours and be back by dawn at the latest.

_It’s so quiet. It’s nice to not have to worry about who could be watching._

_This moment is a blessing._

Alec hesitated on the steps to the small training center, tentatively rolling his shoulders and taking a few moments to _settle_. All day he had been _running-_.

From everything: his faults, family, and emotions. And after all this time with little reprieve, he was finally running on fumes. The only reason he continued was out of sheer will and his angelic runes. If he was being truthful, the last week or so had been more stressful than he had to deal with in over six months. He spent every night only receiving a few fitful hours of sleep while spending the rest of the time tossing, turning, or staring up at the ceiling. No matter what he tried, he was restless. And only when he reached the point of exhaustion where his body forced him to sleep, he was plagued with uncomfortable dreams. If that wasn’t enough, his nightmares had returned. So there was that. 

_That fucking dream._

Alec had woken up in sweating, heart pounding, and absolutely drowning in _shame_.

Before that dream, life was manageable. He didn’t constantly feel like he was going to unravel at the seams by the slightest stressor. The expectations and pressure were a normal part of life for him. Maybe stressful at times but he coped. It wasn’t enough to make him lose control. Nor was he left in a state of freefall.

Alec _thought_ he had the whole childhood crush thing thoroughly dealt with. That it was dead and buried. Before, it had been years since he felt anything wrong for Jace. Everything was great. They were the parabatai pair they were meant to be. Now, it was changing again and it was his own damn fault.

 _I can’t believe I was naive for thinking if I ignored it that it would disappear_.

All the stability of the last few years was crumbling underneath his feet and he was stuck. Unable to move in any direction, without the ground giving away. He was stuck remembering every detail and tormented by his own inability to move past this obstacle. If anyone found out that he had feelings for Jace, it could lead to their separation. Forced by Clave order, and he knew not everyone in the Institute was an ally. There were a few soldiers biding their time to find _his_ weakness. Victor. Raj. 

There was only one thing worse than possibly losing Jace by the order of their superiors, and that was if Jace chose to abandon him because of these pesky feelings. That was one of his greatest fears. For someone his age, not being able to control a crush was humiliating. No matter what pathetic reassurance he recited about it disappearing in time if only he ignored it efficiently enough, it left him in a state of worrying endlessly about his life.

_If people found out about me…._

_I would become a pariah._

_I could lose everything I’ve ever known._

_Everything I’ve worked for._

_I could lose what little love my mom and dad still have for me._

_And I could lose my soul._

_I made an oath that nothing but death would part me from Jace, I meant that._

_If he chose to leave me-_

_I don’t know if I could recover._

His career ambitions were his _only_ future, the only thing he could actually have, and one of the few choices he’d actually made in his life. There was no love in his future. Only arrangements. He couldn’t marry for love and happiness when he needed to continue the Lightwood bloodline and legacy. Therefore, his marriage would be arranged _for_ him. He couldn’t ever truly be himself. How could he? He couldn’t even manage to be himself around the people he loved most in this world, his siblings. How could he be himself to a wife that he couldn’t ever love? How could he be himself to his children and burden them with his choices? All of this used to be set in stone. Now, everything was in jeopardy.

_I was ready for that future-_

_Now, I don’t know._

_I don’t know what my future holds._

_I don’t know about any of it anymore._

That was _why_ Alec had been slowly _unraveling_ ever since. How was he expected to walk the path if it was crumbling away?

_I’m a disaster_.

_Izzy would know what to do._

Izzy always knew exactly what to say or do to settle the storm in his heart. If he wanted to talk to anyone, it would be her. How could he bring this up again? The humiliation about not being able to control one crush let alone his own damn emotions. This isn't how their life was supposed to go. He was the older brother, it was his duty to protect and guide her. Not the other way around. No, he couldn’t burden her with this again, especially when she was the reason he had his parabatai. 

If it wasn’t for her he would’ve kept running. No, not this time. He was on his own and he couldn’t allow his weakness to be another mess that his sister needed to clean up. He told her he was _fine_ countless times. If he admitted he wasn’t, he felt like he would finally come unraveled or maybe even break. He was supposed to have dealt with this by now and he hadn’t. Actions have consequences, and by not dealing with this years ago he had somehow made it worse.

_I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to let you down._

Alec mounted the stairs to the training room, dragging a heavy punching bag into the center of the marble flooring. He walked to the gear table and took out his stele. Alec lifted his shirt and pressed the tip against his stamina rune to activate it. He felt a tingle travel through him, his muscles loosening under the strain. It was enough. Alec then proceeded to wrap his hands before pulling on a light pair of gloves. Alec eyed the bag before him, focused.

Alec’s attention broke at the approaching and unhurried steps **pattering** against the marble. His brisk blue eyes landed on none other than the intimidating figure that was his father. 

_What the hell is he doing here_?

“You kept your word” Robert commented, his hands folded dutifully behind his back, and his eyes inspecting his son like the older man was trying to see through his son.

“You sound _surprised_ ” Alec replied tersely, circling the bag and avoiding further eye contact with his father.

“I was _testing_ you” Robert admitted casually.

“For what? Whether I could follow orders or be trusted?”

If Alec hadn’t known better, he almost thought he saw his father wince in the corner of his eyes. No, that wasn’t right. This man wasn’t capable of caring for him, not after _everything-_.

“I’ll be staying throughout the duration of the two hours. _Begin_ ” Robert ordered brusquely.

Alec rolled his shoulders and took a steadying breath, and began to practice the basic punches, careful to keep light on his feet as if the stationary bag was an enemy who could attack him. Not once did he grace his father with any of his attention. He worked his way through the sets repeatedly. Only changing up the complexity, the speed, or the ferocity. It didn’t take long for his already tired body to ache and to feel the sweat dampen in his hair, roll down his skin, and collect in the fabric of his shirt. His lungs were on fire and the only way he seemed to barely get enough air was to breathe through his mouth. Everything in him pleaded for rest, but he persisted. He refused to falter. He refused to give up. He refused to give Robert Lightwood any fucking satisfaction in not being strong enough to carry on.

_Come on, this is nothing._

_I can do this_.

**= = = = = =**

**__**_I can’t believe he stood there and watched me_.

It wasn’t until he struggled all the way back to his room that he realized he had overdone it _again_. The agony of lifting his feet to just take the necessary steps forward and then he had to keep doing that without tripping or dragging his feet. If he stumbled and ended up on the floor there was a risk. After _that_ workout, he wasn’t certain that if he fell that he would be able to get up until he rested.

_Thank the Angel._

Everything ached. It wasn’t a completely unpleasant feeling because it left his mind blissfully silent. 

Maybe he could finally find safety in his sleep tonight.

Alec turned on the light in his room. It wasn’t like his siblings’ bedrooms as it was barely furnished. There were no personal touches. No pictures, posters, or dust collectors. There was little to actually indicate anyone lived here besides the faint odor of Alec and clothing in the dresser and the closet. Like Alec, this room was only meeting expectations. Not allowed to be anything more. 

The only remarkable thing about it was the stained glass windows currently hidden by heavy curtains behind the headboard of his bed. The rest was simple: a bed, one bedside table, a dresser, a desk and chair, and a laundry basket. The one perk of this room was the attached bathroom. Most of the rooms in the residential wings of the church didn’t have that and so bathrooms were typically communal. A simple room, but Alec found that soothing like a sanctuary. And out of all the rooms in the Institute, it was one of two places that he felt at _home_.

Alec opened the door to the bathroom, walking in to turn on the hot water. He began peeling off his sweat-soaked clothing and left them in a heap on the floor. He’d pick it up in the morning when he could actually bend over to retrieve it.

He reached out carefully to test the temperature of the water, not risking the possibility of a jolt of cold water on his already fatigued and aching muscles. When the water was hot, he stepped in, finding instant relief as the water cascaded down his strained shoulders and back. The water and its warmth began to loosen the throbbing and strained muscles. Alec stifled a relieved moan from escaping his lips. Only managing to keep balanced by placing his forearms against the tiled walls.

_What a day, at least it ended better than it started._

_My mind has never been silent for so long._

Tomorrow morning his parents would leave for Idris again, and even though he shouldn’t feel happy about that, he was. A reprieve. He wouldn’t have to try so hard to hide and he wouldn’t have to worry that they could _see_ his secret like they saw how he wasn’t the son they wanted. He wouldn’t have to live in constant fear of losing his family. The classic pressure and the expectations would be out of sight and out of mind, if only for a while. 

Day-to-day operations of the Institute were easier to manage. And his responsibilities as a shadowhunter, to his siblings, and learning to regain control over his life was easier without having to walk on eggshells because of the complicated mess of a relationship that was the one with his parents.

Alec stepped out of the shower, only haphazardly drying himself before pulling on a pair of cotton sweats that hung on the door and plummeted into his bed.

He felt how heavy his body had become and the mattress swallowed him. Alec’s mind was unfocused, hazy, and barely clinging to consciousness. Taking only a few minutes before he crossed the barrier and into sleep. Deep and dreamless, and his thoughts were unable to carry him away from his much-needed silence. Nothing but dawn could break this moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers, 
> 
> Thank you all so much for making my first experience posting a fic so lovely. The comments, bookmarks, kudos, and-well everything was absolutely amazing. I appreciate and enjoy all of it. It means so much to me. And as always, thank you to my beta, Eve! 
> 
> My plan for this fic is to update it twice a month, so every two weeks. I won't specify a specific day of the week because life happens. I do want to tell all of you that this is the last chapter under 20K. Every chapter, up to the chapter I'm currently writing is all above 20K per chapter. I don't expect that to be changing any time soon. I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> My specific warnings for this chapter are as follows:
> 
> 1\. Alcohol Use/"Binge" Drinking at Pandemonium & Depictions of Alec tipsy/drunk  
> 2\. Negative Self-Thoughts and Opinions (Alec); General Negative Thoughts (Alec & Magnus)  
> 3\. During the chapter there will be references to the disappearances and murders of Downworlders and Mundanes.  
> 4\. Cussing
> 
> As always, kudos, comments, etc. are always cherished.
> 
> P.S. I just wanted to give my dear friend, Hika, a shout. HAPPY (EARLY) BIRTHDAY, DEAR! I adore you so much.
> 
> With all my love,
> 
> Evi

August 12th 2016, 7:19 pm

The Head of the Institute’s office though flawless in its cleanliness and maintenance was antiquated at best. Its selection of vintage and antique décor collected and passed through generations of leaders. All of it from before Alec was born, hell, before his own parents were born. It didn’t conform to what the room was supposed to be. If Alec didn’t know any better he’d say this office belonged to an old professor at some unmemorable mundane university.

It was a room of _memory_. All very nostalgic, and the complete opposite of the brutal efficiency of shadowhunters. The very people that ingrain in their children that emotions are distractions and cloud judgment. That they serve _no purpose_ and that any outward sign of feeling anything was a _weakness_. And yet, the Nephilim were prone to be overwhelmed by their emotions as anyone else. _Irony at its finest_.

The walls were a light, faded brown or perhaps a dusty cream wallpaper, except for the wall with the heavy door. That wall was paneled in walnut and was void of anything but a few antique paintings that served no purpose except to collect dust. The room was sparsely furnished with the only furniture being an enormous walnut desk, a worn leather chair stationed behind it, two guest leather chairs, and a small bookcase hidden in the corner of the room. The only use those books had seen in decades was when he used to stack them as a child.

Besides that, the only things that called the office home were dust-collecting knick-knacks that Alec wasn’t even certain how the hell they got there or their purpose. On the desk, the only sign of modernity was the corded phone that wasn’t used all that often. It wasn’t like any downworlder representatives actually called the Institute for help. _Pointless_.

The only objects in the room that spoke of luxury were the grand fireplace, the stained glass windows on each side of the office, and the golden bar cart. The fireplace was tall and framed with an elaborately carved walnut mantle, the enkeli runes painted in gold on each side. Alec could remember as a child, sitting before that mantle ‘working’ with his parents.

 _I used to write my own memos_ …

One of his better memories with his parents and it belonged to a simpler time.

The stained glass windows, lovely in their nature with panels of several shades of reds, yellows, and blues. Framing the images of the Angel, Raziel, the glass also held strategically placed enkeli runes. Twice a day, the light would flood through those windows and bathe the otherwise colorless room with a warmth that only color could provide. A breathtaking sight, and one of his favorites in the entire Institute. 

Near the stained glass window on the opposite side of the room from his desk, Alec could see the golden bar cart. On its mirrored surface were several crystal decanters and glasses. Holding Robert’s favorites, some sort of selection of bourbon and scotch. Another one of his father’s touches was the wooden box on the mantelpiece that held his imported cigars. All the things that reminded him of his father, and the only things in this room he wouldn’t dare touch. There was nothing here that suggested his mother ever spent any amount of time here, not even the remnants of her cigarettes. Despite the fact that the office was primarily hers. 

If this was _his_ office, instead of the pointless knick-knacks that held the mantle hostage, Alec would’ve put framed pictures of his family: Jace, Izzy, and Max. To remind him of what he was fighting for. They were the single most important part of his life.

Ironically, though he loved his family with every fiber of his being, they were also the primary cause of all the disasters in his life.

 _Stop._ _This isn’t your office and you’re not officially the Head of the Institute._

_You’re only acting Head until your parents return._

_Behave like the good son you’re supposed to be._

Alec sat at the desk, strewn with antiquated books and _more_ knick-knacks. As much as Alec wanted it all gone, he knew time and time again he wouldn’t touch a thing. 

_I’m weak._

_I’m just like the rest of my people. I can’t even move an empty ceramic bowl._

_We don’t change and we don’t grow._

_We remain stagnant, call it tradition and celebrate its greatness._

_Who are you to change anything?_

_What right do you have?_

_Who are you to judge whether tradition is right or wrong?_

_You’re a weak man pretending to be strong._

_You don’t belong._

Alec slouched forward and rubbed his eyes, trying to rid himself of these negative thoughts and a headache growing behind his eyes. He had been locked away in this office all day, not even stopping to even do the simple task of stretching let alone eating.

 _Shit_. 

Alec took out his stele and lifted the hem of his shirt to draw a nourishment rune, and as it took effect he felt better. Not perfect, but functional. Dropping his shirt back into place, he put his stele down onto the desk and leaned back into the supple leather to focus on breathing deeply.

Another dull day, spending the entirety of it going over specific mission reports from a select set of soldiers, looking for mistakes, correcting in order to evaluate the shadowhunter responsible. An army was only as strong as its weakest, and he expected nothing but the Institute’s standards to be met from those operating within. Between the lifeless mission reports, demonic activity patterns, branch reports, departmental memos, and budget reports there was a strain growing within Alec’s skull and that was before the irritating amount of time spent corresponding with the Clave through fire messages. As if his position _only_ required him to remain behind a desk day and night.

Mostly it was just small missives and seeking permission for upcoming missions. Thankfully, no actual meetings with the Clave were required or even scheduled in the near future. That was the worst part of the job, dealing with the Clave, especially the Council. 

It was best for everyone if Alec gave the Clave _no reason_ to interfere in the affairs of New York more than they already did. It was bad enough the Institute and the Lightwoods lived under their thumb for as long as he could remember. Despite his curiosity of _why_ , he knew better than to ask _that_. It was one of his parents' rules. Never ask questions, do what you're told.

The _only_ way Alec knew how to do that was to keep ahead, seek permission for missions, stick to the rules of the Clave no matter how tedious or redundant they may be and keep all the Institute’s logistics dealt with. It was his job to keep this Institute and his family looking effective and to live up to the family legacy. A path he _strived_ towards, day in and day out, barely keeping to the line he was expected to walk since he was old enough to carry that ever-increasing weight, year after year. _I have to hold that weight._

 _I can’t falter._ To Jace and Izzy, this administrative, political, and diplomatic lifestyle was torture. To Alec, it was like breathing. One of the only simple systems in his life. He was raised to do this, his _responsibility_ , and his future. The amount of focus and level of detail required kept his mind from wandering _most_ days. 

Alec eyed the pile of paperwork he finished today before scoffing and rolling his eyes. _If there is one thing that Shadowhunters aren’t good at it's filling out fucking paperwork. Especially Jace._

The very thought of Jace’s report on the vampire den that he and Izzy dealt with two days ago swelled him with warmth. It wasn’t so much the mission itself, but rather the childish chicken scratch that Jace proudly claimed as his handwriting. One of the few things that still brought a smile to his face. 

Thankfully, Alec had years to adapt and was particularly proficient at reading it, otherwise, Jace’s reports alone could take all day. Not that he would subject _that_ to the Administration department. His parabatai was one of the select soldiers whose reports he assessed, personally. Not something typical of a Head, but Alec preferred to keep a close eye on his family and the soldiers barely scraping proficiency.

As quick as that smile appeared, it fell, remembering the _details_ of the den and the danger.

 _I should’ve been there to protect them. I didn’t like staying behind, worrying, and wondering if they would come home._

Rationally speaking, Alec knew as the acting Head he couldn’t spend as much time in the field, but that didn’t deter or suppress the worry. He also knew that his parabatai and his sister could operate on their own. And yet, he struggled to resist the urge to be by their side, always. Nothing helped. No amount of assurances or their abilities could comfort him. The only thing that had helped was their return, safe and sound. 

_I need my family to be safe_.

All day, his mind had been peaceful, and the lack of interruptions left him spending the day in blessed silence. It seemed, however, that was coming to an end as he could hear approaching footsteps coming towards the office long before he heard the knocker **bang** against the heavy wooden door. 

_I’m going to put an arrow through whoever thought that knocker was a good idea._

“Come in,” Alec commanded, standing to greet whoever came through the door, his rigid posture relaxing at the sight of his siblings. 

Alec closed the file he had been reviewing, put the pen off to the side, and folded his hands in his lap as he sat back in his seat. It wasn’t _necessary_ for him to stand in the first place unless his visitor was of higher rank, but Alec tried his best to extend the courtesy out to every soldier. 

“What can I do for you?” Alec asked, peering at his siblings with suspicion.

_This isn’t normal._

_Why are they acting like this?_

_My siblings don’t know how to knock on closed doors._

_And they never wait for me to give them permission to speak. Usually, they just burst in and speak their minds._

_Did something happen?_

_No. It’s not that._

_It’s something else-_

“Is this really how you’re going to spend your night off? Doing paperwork?” Jace questioned judgingly, crossing his arms over his chest, the bulk of the muscle stretching his tight v-neck shirt.

In fact, Alec was going to spend his entire night off wrapping up the pile of paperwork stacked on his desk. What else did he have to do? Train? _Check_. Lounge around? _Not happening._ Sleep? _As if_. Alec wasn’t the type to spend a day being lazy and lounging around. It didn’t help him relax, in fact, the effect was the opposite by making him irritatingly restless.

The Institute’s whole _purpose_ was to be utilitarian, not entertaining. Only the necessary tools to aid their duty stayed and the rest of it didn’t exist. There were no modern comforts here that didn’t serve a function, and there sure as hell wasn’t any sort of luxury. Well, at least communal comforts, personal property was a different matter.

There were no recreational computers, the ones used here were for data collection, tracking, and mission or patrol supervision. There weren't any televisions that weren’t connected to their computer systems. There was no cable, streaming services, video games, or movies. There were no books that one would read for enjoyment, only for research and reference. The most _recreational_ mundane technology that they possessed were their cellphones and _only_ because it was practical. For heaven’s sake, most shadowhunters didn’t even know how to drive a damn car.

“I was, it’s efficient” Alec retorted, ready to confront another _debate_ on his life choices, “I can’t let the paperwork pile up.” 

_Wait._

_They want something from me._

“Well, that’s changing now. I’ve got the perfect way to spend our night off” Izzy said, unlocking her phone’s screen, shoving it toward his face, and revealing a digital flyer for….a downworlder party.

_Shit, I knew it._

“You want me to spend my night at a downworlder party?” Alec asked, frowning.

“Not just _any_ party, a party at Pandemonium!” Izzy squealed in delight. 

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Alec asked scoffing, adding his _signature_ eye roll in for good measure.

“It’s the hottest nightclub in the city,” Jace explained, grinning, though the whole thing was pointless.

Why would the reputation of a nightclub persuade him that this was what he was supposed to do with his free time? Trick question, it didn’t. 

“AND it’s only open to the Shadow world tonight. No mundanes. No need for glamours. No need to _hide_ ” Izzy said, beaming. 

“And?” Alec asked, impassively. 

“It means Pandemonium is planning one of its _legendary_ parties. There hasn’t been one in over twenty years” Izzy pressed, a sense of disbelief swelling in her eyes as if he was missing something as obvious as water being wet. 

“I never thought I’d live to see one, let alone attend. They’re supposed to be _magical_ ” Izzy squealed, unable to quit squirming. 

_Izzy looks like she’s already died and gone to heaven._

_How is it possible that she is this excited for a party?_

_Doesn’t this get boring?_

_Apparently not._

“I wonder _why_ , it's run by a warlock” Jace retorted sarcastically.

Alec shot a glare at his smartass parabatai though that only encouraged Jace’s infectious grin. It took every drop of discipline to keep his lips unmoved and seemingly unimpressed. Unwilling to let Jace see that he _won_. 

_This isn’t a good idea_.

_How do I get out of this?_

“If you two want to go, then please-” Alec directed, gesticulating his hands towards the door, clearly indicating they should go _without_ him. He could only half-heartedly hope they would take it, but he knew that they wouldn’t. Not once had they ever left him behind. 

_Why do I not want to go?_

“Come with us,” Izzy urged, trying not to squeal, and instead offered one of her dazzling smiles. 

_There it is, they want to drag me to some god awful nightclub for the night._

_Not just any nightclub either, apparently this one will be magical._

_Fuck._

“It’s really not my _thing_ ” Alec argued stubbornly.

_Why am I arguing?_

_Why can’t I just accept the invitation and go?_

“You’ve never been to a nightclub. You don’t know they aren’t your _thing_ until you give it a try,” Izzy protested. 

“Buddy, nightclubs are perfect for getting you out of your head for a while,” Jace said knowingly, picking _that_ card to use against Alec, obviously, he was tired of this pointless arguing. They all knew Alec was going.

_Why do I bother trying to argue?_

“ _Fine_ , I’ll go” Alec relented under his sibling’s pressure, “When are we leaving?” 

“An hour or two. _Tops_. We need to get ready and eat before we head out” Jace answered promptly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you find something to wear. You can’t wear THAT to Pandemonium” Izzy said pointing out the offensive outfit in question. A typical shadowhunter uniform: jacket, t-shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots. 

“Really, Izzy,” Alec said, raising exasperated eyebrows, “I don’t have anything that would gain _your_ approval.” 

“Don’t forget the back of your closet is full of pre-approved outfits chosen by _me_ ” Izzy teased.

Alec groaned, resisting the urge to hit his head against the desk. 

_I forgot about those._

“Get up, Alec, don’t make me drag you out of here” Jace grinned, his blue-brown eyes shining with pure mischief. 

Alec _relented_ and allowed his sister to grab his hand and drag him out of the office, through the ops center, and up to his bedroom on the fourth floor.

Apparently fate had a funny sense of humor by making him his sister’s next makeover casualty.

_I hope I don’t regret this._

8:01 pm 

After a _prolonged_ shower, Alec exited his bathroom wearing only a pair of grey skinny jeans, all the while water dripped down from his messy black hair down his well-built body, where a light coating of hair spanned across his pecs and down along his stomach. His runes, varying degrees of black, lay scattered along his back, chest, and arms. If one looked closely, the faint lines of silver revealed past runes that have long since faded away, a testament to their usage over the years. 

“Is this all necessary? I can dress myself,” Alec grumbled, rubbing a towel through his hair and down his body to rid himself of any lingering droplets.

_Is she ignoring me?_

Izzy seemed to be coming to a decision, weighing her _options_ , between three brand new shirts still on their hangers. The one in her left hand lost out and she returned it to the depths of his closet. Then, proceeding to hold her official choice for him to take.

_Thank the Angel. It’s not the tank top._

_Nothing could be worse_ \- 

_Crap._

_I spoke too soon_. 

“I’m not wearing _that_ ,” Alec said, eyeing the shirt and refusing to touch it let alone grab it like the fabric would burn him. 

Did she really think he would wear something so- _revealing_? Just because she was comfortable with her body, doesn’t mean that Alec felt the same. For the Angel’s sake, the shirt represented everything he wasn’t: laidback, bold, and memorable.

“It’s just a shirt, it doesn’t show everything, only offers a little taste. Put it on, trust me” Izzy insisted, pushing the shirt towards him encouragingly.

_I will not wear that shirt. I will not wear that._

_I will not-._

“Will it make you happy if I wear this shirt?” Alec asked, unable to take his eyes off of the black see-through fabric.

“Oh, you have _no idea_ how happy it would make me,” Izzy teased, lightly giggling.

_I will wear the damn shirt. It’s just a shirt._

_It doesn’t mean anything._

Alec took the hanger from her, it was a simple black see-through button up.

 _I can do this_. 

Sliding the light fabric off of the hanger and into his hands, Alec reluctantly had to admit that the material was soft, airy, and looked comfortable. Carefully, he pulled the shirt over his now dry shoulders and adjusted it accordingly. As he went to fasten the buttons, Izzy slapped his hands away and took the buttons into her fingers to fasten them personally. 

“I look ridiculous,” Alec said, frowning.

Izzy only smiled sweetly before taking the sleeves and rolling them up to his elbow, exposing his firm forearms, and his enkeli and soundless runes. Not that his other runes were exactly _hiding_. _Shit._

_What am I doing wearing this?_

_What am I doing going to a club?_

“You have a great body, you should show it off,” Izzy assured, “Don’t you dare touch the shirt, it’s _perfect_.”

Alec frowned, eyeing her warily, but he didn’t touch her adjustments to his shirt. Instead, he took the opportunity to sit on the edge of his bed and pull on a pair of simple black canvas sneakers. There were only four kinds of shoes that he owned: canvas sneakers, running sneakers, combat boots, and dress shoes. When he was finished he stood and held his hands out away from his body, barely containing the urge to spin around in a circle to allow her the full sight of her _makeover_. 

“There, all dressed. Am I finished now?” Alec asked a hint of impatience in his steady tone.

Izzy approached, grabbing his hands into hers and squeezed as she gave him an approving once-over. Whatever she was looking for she seemed to find because she beamed at him. 

“Oh Alec, you look great,” Izzy said, sighing in contentment. 

“One little thing, can I style your hair?” Izzy asked, reaching out for his dark messy locks, pieces at the tips already beginning to curl as they dried.

“No,” Alec said firmly, holding his hand out in warning, “My hair is _fine_ , leave it alone.” 

“I suppose that means you won’t let me put a smidge of liner on to make your eyes pop?” Izzy asked, obviously already expecting a blatant refusal.

“Absolutely not. _No one_ could convince me to wear eyeliner, ever” Alec retorted watching his sister warily. 

“What a shame, those eyes would be to die for with a little emphasis” Izzy pouted, her dark eyes thoughtful, “You know, you shouldn’t say no one. It might come back to bite you in the ass one day.” 

“I doubt _that_. I’m ready. Go get dressed so we can leave” Alec said firmly, dismissing her from his bedroom. 

At his door, Izzy stopped, lingered and looked at him over her shoulder. For no apparent reason, she offered him one of her most loving smiles. The kind that melted his heart and soul and made him feel _seen_. 

“This will be a good thing for you, I promise,” Izzy said reassuringly. “Now, go eat something before we go. You can’t go out drinking and dancing without something in your stomach.” 

_For the Angel’s sake, she’s using her motherly voice on me now_. 

How many _years_ has it been since she used it on him?

Did that mean the abyss between them wasn’t as far-stretched or as deep as he thought?

_She’s always looked out for me, even though I’m the one supposed to be looking out for her._

_What did I do to deserve her?_

_Why do I keep her at arm’s length?_

_I don’t know how to let anyone in anymore._

_Where do I even start?_

“I’m _fine_ ,” Alec groaned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Alec, I’m telling you to go eat something before we leave” Izzy ordered inflexibly. 

Absolutely leaving him _no room_ for argument or refusal.

After she left, a swelling of dread seeped into his stomach, first pooling and then _rising_. His sister’s infectious reassurance and comfort disappeared, that small sense was the only warning to the flash flood threatening to drag him away into its murky depths. 

_Dammit._

_This is a mistake._

_I can’t be going out._

_I’m the Head of the Institute._

_It’s irresponsible._

_I need to finish the paperwork._

_I need to be efficient._

_I need to be effective._

_Going to the club…is foolish._

_To drink, to dance, to be free._

_That’s a waste of time._

_What would my parents think? They’d be disappointed._

_I’d only be proving I’m not the son they raised me to be._

_I need to tell my siblings I’m not going._

_They can go without me._

_It’s for the best._

Alec _knew_ what he was feeling, it was always the same: guilt, shame, and fear. Those _three_ encouraged every internal assault against him and each time it felt like a fight for survival. These experiences were the kind that mundanes scientifically labeled and boxed through classifications and terminology, even when it was anything but simple and clean. At least the Internet, one of the most useful things invented by mundanes, offered _something_. What else was he supposed to do when he couldn’t sleep? He needed answers for what the fuck was happening to him because no one else was going to find them for him. No one knew him enough to try.

An emptiness and aching settled in his chest. Alec’s stomach was spinning in circles like a whirlpool. Wave after wave of nausea hit him, hard, and there was no time to recover before he was dizzy and unbalanced. Desperately, he reached out for the nearest, solid surface, his dresser. The sturdy piece of furniture remained steady as he leaned against it, heavily. 

_Oh Angel, this is too much_.

From his feet to his knees, he was weak. Only proven by the faint wobbling of his unsteady body. Why was he like this? Why did he always feel too damn much? Why did everything in his life have to be so fucking hard? Why was every day a battle?

Only the noisy **ding** of his phone broke the barrier of his overwhelming ocean of anxiety and negativity. He gathered and twisted the string of adamas beads in his pocket, delicately rolling them against his skin and finding the result _soothing_.

_Raziel,_

_Grant me the strength to endure._

_To survive_. 

> **Jace** : Alec.

> **Jace** : It’ll be okay. I’m here.

> **Jace** : Put your hand on _our_ bond.

> **Jace** : _Breathe_.  
> 

Alec took a deep breath, leaned his head back, and pressed his free hand against the parabatai rune on his hip. He focused on the continuous push and pull like a wave caressing the shore. Another anchor point, their bond stable and steady. It wasn’t often Alec’s negative emotions slipped through the cracks and into Jace, the mute on his side prevented _that_ , usually. 

_He’s here with me_.

A warmth bled in from their soul. Feeling awfully like acceptance, like Jace would never regret choosing him. And once again was choosing Alec in this moment of weakness, now and forever. That meant _everything_.

Alec felt the storm dwindling, losing its power and control over him. Finally, anchored, and his control returning to his grasp. The negativity was still there. As it always was and it still tried to harass and assault him at the smallest sign of a flaw in his armor. For now, it was manageable. It was enough. He was not overwhelmed. He would _survive_.

 _I can do this_.

_What would I ever do without him?_

> **Alec** : Thanks. I’m fine.  
> 

Alec shook his head and found himself lured towards the mirror in his bedroom.

 _I still don’t see it._

Alec looked over himself, _searching_. His hair was untamed and mostly straight with a few strands curling near the tips. 

_I could use a haircut_. 

It’s fine, at least it's soft. Was that considered a good thing? It was only hair. 

_I’m not like my siblings, it’s so effortless for them._

In the mirror, rationally speaking, he could _see_ he had broad shoulders and he could see the musculature of his body. They weren’t aesthetic though, it was pragmatic and essential. His height was not something he had any control of. Or his long legs. Whereas, the scars, most of them were old runes faded over time leaving only a silvery discoloration. Somehow he managed to not have any scars from fighting demons, yet. Though he wasn’t _scarless_ , they were just invisible to the naked eye.

The rest of him was _average_. Alec supposed he had nice blue eyes, but to him, they were just eyes used to see. It was more practical to think of eyes in terms of vision. He had no need for glasses or contacts, therefore his vision was adequate which aided in his day-to-day tasks of paperwork or hunting demons. His nose wasn’t crooked like some shadowhunters’. He’d never broken his nose, though it was considered a normal consequence during training or fighting for your life. Alec tried to smile, to see if _that_ changed anything. It didn’t. His face looked _strange_ wearing a smile. How did people make smiling look so _easy_?

_Izzy is wrong._

_I’m average._

_I’m forgettable._

Alec unconsciously began to fidget. The longer he stared into the mirror, the longer his unease had the opportunity to lash out at him, scarring him internally. Pulling at the hem of his _new_ shirt as if tugging on it would make the see-through fabric somehow thicker, cover more of his skin, and his insecurities.

_Why would anyone want to see my runes anyway?_

Alec sighed, taking a careful effort to yank his eyes away from the mirror. He walked over to his bedside table and reached out to grab his wallet, keys, and phone. 

_I need to leave before I change my mind about all of this._

_Wait-_

_I need to go eat_. 

_I’m not giving Izzy the chance to kill me over not eating._

_She doesn’t need to know about how many meals I’ve missed._

9: 23 pm 

Alec, Jace, and Izzy stood outside in the tepid night air surrounded by old brick warehouses that were slowly being revitalized by the mundane world. From where they were standing in the _long_ line, waiting, Alec could just now see the sight of a steel archway with the bright red sign that read: **PANDEMONIUM**

It flashed, purposefully, and at times it read nothing except _DEMON_. Kind of fitting for a club that offered all sorts of entertainment for downworlders and humans. Not that it apparently excluded shadowhunters, but he could count on one hand the number of his soldiers that visited this club. Izzy, Jace, and maybe two cadets.

Alec wasn’t certain _what_ it was about the club, but it felt strange, like an embodiment of _temptation_ as the energy even outside encouraged... _freedom_. 

_No._

_You should be trying to actively avoid places like this. This is a bad idea._

It had been almost a half-hour since they arrived from the Institute and Alec was beginning to feel stiff by just standing here. The horde of people before them was steadily trickling in all this time, presumably, into the club beyond the steel archway. 

_How big is this nightclub_? 

Izzy was beautiful. There was no way she could be anything less to him. Tonight, she was in her element. She wore a sparkling red dress with thin straps. It was a little too short for his comfort, but it was also something he was used to with her over the years.

_I will never make her feel bad about herself._

_She gets enough of that from our mother._

For as long as Alec could remember, Izzy had always been comfortable in her skin. And she challenged anyone that dared to tell her how to dress. Only the stupid or vicious still tried to convince her of anything regarding appearances. And as per her usual, she wore matching stiletto heels. _How does she walk around in those things?_ Izzy allowed her lightly-curled hair to fall naturally over one shoulder, and her makeup was applied flawlessly. Overall, a look that was dramatic, eye-catching, and perfectly Izzy. 

“You look beautiful, Izzy,” Alec said with a flicker of a genuine smile. 

If one blinked, they would miss it.

“I _know_. Do you know what would have gone perfectly with this dress? That necklace in the-” Izzy smiled appreciatively, before being rudely interrupted, of course, by none other than Jace.

“What about me?” Jace scoffed, apparently offended at this whole ordeal.

_Dammit Jace._

Alec had been actively avoiding looking- _staring_ at his parabatai since they arrived. Unable to avoid it now, he saw that Jace was wearing light blue jeans and a too tight, feasibly a size-too-small, deep v-neck in his traditional color of black. _That shirt_. 

It hugged his body like it had been painted on and left a sliver of exposed skin between its hem and the waistline of his jeans. That’s all before even getting to his face. His hair was perfectly styled and held in place by some sort of mundane hair care product, Alec guessed. Jace made it all look so... _effortless_. His blue-brown eyes were bold, daring, and inviting. No, not inviting but rather trouble. Unable to look away, unfortunately, meant that his gaze drew up towards the other man’s lips. They were a natural shade of pink and were puckered into a pout when they weren’t curved into a smirk or a grin. _Oh my Angel._

_Enough._

Alec tore his eyes away, turning his head away altogether in an attempt to collect himself and to face the welling shame of lacking the discipline to avoid that inappropriate behavior. That was his parabatai for the Angel’s sake. Instead, he allowed his eyes to find the flashing sign, the blinking light distracting him from his racing heartbeat and dry throat. 

_My own body is betraying me._

“What do you want me to say? You want me to tell you that you look beautiful too? Green is not your color and fishing for compliments doesn’t suit you” Alec answered sarcastically.

Jace looked outraged, gaping like a fish, and his eyebrows raised in evident surprise. For one blessed moment in time, Jace was completely speechless.

Izzy, meanwhile, tried frantically to contain her laughter. Though an observable smirk lingered on her lips and her shoulders shook. 

“Well, Iz, I owe you fifty bucks,” Jace said, obviously pushing through his very _real_ outrage. “I didn’t actually think you could get our brother to wear a shirt like _that_.” 

“You know how stubborn our sister can be. I couldn’t say no” Alec said defensively, frowning. _Why do they constantly make bets about me?_

“Oh I know and that’s why I don’t bother fighting her on fashion. You’re the only one that still tries. It’s cute. That’s what makes this fun” Jace grinned, clapping a hand down on Alec’s shoulder and squeezing it.

“Hand over _my_ money,” Izzy pressed, not giving their brother a chance to spend _her_ money, tonight.

“If fifty bucks is the price to have you here with us, I’ll gladly pay up” Jace added, taking out his wallet and holding out fifty in a series of two twenties and a ten in between his fingers for their sister to take. 

Izzy, smugly stuffed the bills out of sight. Where did she put it? Alec could only guess. He may have looked away, humiliated by all of this childish behavior at _his_ expense. 

After the beefy werewolf bouncers allowed them passage, they entered Pandemonium and were immediately spellbound. Alec couldn’t help himself but take a look around, everything was enigmatic and enchanting.

It was _nothing_ like what he expected. As a converted brick warehouse, he thought that it would be spacious and boxy. Most definitely cramped, hot, and reeking of stagnant odors, specifically sweat. Not spacious, cool, and perfumed by the scent of something like a mixture of a fresh breeze in a forest somewhere far...far away.

Though from the inside it was like being _somewhere_ else. It shouldn’t have been anything special. The walls were painted black with lights above that projected colorful designs on the walls and floor. The most striking image was a pair of hypnotizing golden cat eyes. 

Alec could see the strategically placed steel columns attached to matching archways nearing the ceiling. It looked like they were under a magnificent bridge. If he activated his night vision rune, he guessed that there were likely catwalks above them, hidden in plain sight. 

On the left side of the columns, there was a seemingly sleek but modest bar. The only things characteristic about it was the glow underneath the counter, a blue magical mist that lightly lingered in the air, and the glowing glass shelves holding more bottles of alcohol than he could count.

On the right side of the columns, there were two dozen or so standing tables. Next to the wall were enormous, lavish leather booths framing what was obviously the lounge area. All of which seemed to be _occupied_ for the night. Looking farther back, past the small sea of people, Alec could see a set of large velvet curtains of molten gold that was currently pulled back to reveal the central dance area.

On either side of the curtains, there was a pair of steel staircases leading to only the Angel knew where and Alec could only guess. He saw in the far left-hand corner a dimly lit hallway that he supposed had to lead to restrooms, an emergency exit, and likely some employee-only areas.

That otherworldly feel didn’t come from the furnishings, nor did it come from the lighting, the music, or the people. It belonged to the _energy_ of the room, and Alec dared to guess, _magic_. 

It wasn’t like anything Alec had ever experienced in his life. The heart of the music seemed to control everything and everyone. The DJ, a puppeteer, lured everyone to indulge in their deepest desire: freedom. Enticing them to forget the world, if only for one night. The sea of people swayed and danced to the beat, and the lights shone and flashed to it as well. All of it was bright, beautiful, and exhilarating like the epitome of pure _temptation._

_I feel like I could get lost here._

_Just like everyone else._

Alec felt the vibrations of the music course through him as it permeated the air around him and not only through the soles of his sneakers. He could’ve sworn, there were strings wrapped around every guest. A trace of invisible strings glided along his body, his skin tingled, every moment that passed they were wrapping intricate patterns around him, claiming him as one of them, a drop in the ocean. And in his ears, he swore he heard the calls of adventure whispering for him to drink, dance, and be free. It was all-consuming and Alec had difficulty ever feeling so _tempted_.

Alec was only broken out of his trance by his sister tightly tugging him through the tight-knit packs of people and towards the bar. Out of habit, he took the seat that allowed his back to be facing the wall. From here, he could see _almost_ everything and explored the faces that were around them. He could recognize almost all as downworlders but none held a personal familiarity. No one he worked with in the past or present. No mundanes. And the only shadowhunters in the club were the three of them.

“Alright, what does everyone want to drink?” Jace asked grinning, eyes bright with excitement. 

“Let’s start with shots,” Izzy chimed, “Get this party started the right way.” 

Alec watched warily as the shots arrived and Jace slid two small glasses filled with a golden liquid towards him, “What is this?” 

He _expected_ some sort of answer, but received none. Izzy lightly lifted one of her shot glasses to the space between them, waiting for her brothers to do the same. Lifting his glass to hers, trying to act like this wasn’t his first time drinking in a club. Granted, he’s had a glass of wine at Clave dinners with his family, but never anything like _this_. 

_I don’t want to feel like an outsider._

“Together. One, two, _three_ ” Izzy counted and all together they tipped one shot back after the other. 

At least he managed not to spill the drink all over himself, so there was that.

The burn of the drink stung his throat, he winced as the deceptively cool drink settled down in his stomach. Trying to recover, he shook his head, blinked, and generally tried to keep the burning from making his eyes water. Whatever this was, he didn’t like it. 

“You alright?” Jace asked, slapping the back of his shoulder, laughing. Clearly, they didn’t just taste the same drink. It seemed whatever it was, Jace _liked_ it.

“That was disgusting,” Alec said, grimacing. 

“It’s an acquired taste, but it does the trick. Give it time and you’ll be thanking me later. Let me order you a beer and see if that’s more suitable to your _taste_ ” Jace flagged down the bartender, ordering a beer for Alec and four more shots for Izzy and himself.

It didn’t take long for Alec to feel the euphoric effects, it started with a warmth in his stomach and then it muffled the nagging and negative voices in his head. Ultimately, he felt _relaxed_. None of his typical cares or worries seemed important. Not right now, anyway. Not long after, Jace wandered away and found a beautiful girl, a Seelie, to occupy his attention.

Alec watched his brother dance, if you could call it _that_. 

A faint aching in his chest, not exactly a throbbing but rather a tugging. It wasn’t jealousy. Alec didn’t get jealous, especially not over Jace’s one-night stands. Was it longing? Loneliness? 

“Alec!” Izzy shouted, startling him, and leaving him fumbling on his leather stool.

Alec’s eyes sweep over to his sister and away from Jace, her dark eyes holding a _knowing_ look, making him feel restless and exposed. His eyes fell to his drink. He needed something to do that didn’t require him explaining or talking, so he tipped the beer back and chugged, before setting a now near-empty bottle down on the counter.

“Yeah?” Alec asked innocently enough when it was evident that Izzy wasn’t relenting until he acknowledged her. Once again, he had been caught staring at Jace.

_Don’t fool yourself. You were checking him out._

“It’s okay” Izzy assured him, taking his hand in hers, “Do you want to go dance?” 

“No, not yet. I think I want another drink first. Thanks, Iz. Go dance, I’ll join you soon. I promise” Alec said. 

_I need to be alone if only for one more drink_. 

Izzy gave him a small smile and pushed her remaining shot towards him before hopping off the stool and wading into the sea of dancers until she found herself an attractive partner at least for a dance or two. 

Alec kept his eyes back on his own drinks, refusing to watch his siblings dance, especially Jace. That was more than _enough_ embarrassment for one night. Taking the shot in his hand, he tipped it back. Ironically, the burn wasn’t so bad this time even if it didn’t taste any better. 

_I’m not certain I’ll be acquiring a taste to this_.

= = = = = =

Magnus watched the flow of his dancing guests lulled under his spell. He stood away from the crowds of people from the safety of the catwalk far above. Pandemonium. _His_ club was an extension of himself: fun, flexible, and fleeting. That’s how he chose to live for centuries. Yet, a feeling of separateness from it all like he was entirely disconnected. When had that happened? Was it gradually over time or all at once? 

This wasn't necessarily a _new_ feeling, on the contrary, he had been feeling that separation slowly consuming him for decades. As if year by year, he was growing numb and closed off to it all. Closed off to life. Very little enticed or surprised him anymore. That should’ve been terrifying, but that would require him to _stop_ and stay still longer than for a fleeting moment in time. An unfortunate side effect of his condition, _immortality_. Apparently, there were perks _and_ disadvantages. 

_I don’t feel alive anymore_.

The people blurred under the flashing lights, and there was no singular person piquing his interest. Not that he was _looking_ , after all, he was only overseeing his club tonight. As it was his responsibility to get a feel for the welfare of his guests. To make sure they enjoyed themselves. Magnus paced along the length of the catwalks keeping his dark eyes on everything, trying to ease the tension growing in the tips of his fingers, a blue electricity prickling occasionally. 

Tonight, he put an elementary enchantment on the club, to increase the pleasure of his guests. Nothing nefarious, and nothing that would encourage unwanted behavior.

It was perfect cover for hiding what _he_ was really doing that night. People noticed when Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, was missing from his own parties. He couldn’t have that. With this little spell, they wouldn’t pay any mind to such thoughts as his guests would be too busy being lost in their own euphoria. Whenever he enchanted one of his parties, it seemed to only make his club’s reputation rise. 

_I do know a thing or two about throwing a party_.

Magnus prided himself on his euphoric enchantments just as much as his memory ones.

He wished he could partake in the entertainment tonight. He badly needed a distraction, but he was here for business, not pleasure. _Business not pleasure_. It was practically his mantra by this point as he had been relentlessly reminding himself all night. As always, it was too easy to get lost in the intoxicating rush of magic, music, dancing, and alcohol. 

_I need a drink._

_No-._

_No drinking tonight._

It wasn’t unusual for Pandemonium to be home for all people. It was common to see it full of warlocks, vampires, werewolves, seelies, and mundanes. At least, it had been day after day for the past twenty years or so. Who kept count after a decade or two?

Tonight, there was not a single mundane in attendance. He found it a necessary sacrifice for the sake of the fragility of his business. He liked humans, he even had fallen in love with a few over the span of his long life. But he couldn’t risk breaking the Accords by carelessly revealing their world. He needed as much of the Downworld of New York in his club that he could manage and this was the way to do it. He offered his guests security. 

They could all let their glamours fall and be free…

A freedom that a hidden society rarely achieved and it was the most _effective_ way to find out what the Downworld _knew_. News always traveled rapidly in his world. Magnus was looking for something less common than the typical comings and goings of the sleepless city. He was searching for the quiet and fearful whispers. The kind that people were afraid to utter outside the safety of their homes. He needed to hear everything, personally, as he had been seeing disturbing signs as of late and he was hoping to get answers. Not only drunken whispers and his own worry. That’s why he called the meeting in the first place and the reason why he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the euphoria below, even though that is all he wanted to do. Who wouldn’t want to get lost and be free? _This is going to be a long night._

= = = = = =

_What is that?_

Magnus found his eyes lingering on three _peculiar_ guests. 

_Now, that is unusual._

All downworlders in attendance had their glamours down, and it could easily explain why he missed it in the first place. There in the crowds below, three Nephilim were in _his_ club. It was obvious by the various black runes burned into their bodies. All of them were unarmed and not here to stir up any trouble. What was truly odd about the whole thing was how comfortable they seemed to be in a club full of downworlders. Maybe not fully comfortable. Two of them were dancing with some seelies. The _third_ , however, sat at the bar near the wall as if he wanted to _disappear_. That one was the only person to pique his interest. The irony of a shadowhunter fascinating him wasn’t lost on him.

 _Why are you different_? 

Magnus leaned against the railing, unable to tear his eyes away from the young man. _Who are you_? 

_I can’t remember the last time a shadowhunter entered my establishment let alone three of them._

_Maybe since I’ve opened?_

All Nephilim were practically ingrained into believing their angelic blood made them superior to downworlders and even the humans they swore to protect. Magnus lost count of how many shadowhunters thought that people like him, a warlock, was ichor beneath their feet. How many times was basic humanity and decency thrown out the window because of the blood running through his veins? 

Magnus vividly retained countless memories of acts of discrimination, mistreatment, and the unfiltered hatred at the hands of Nephilim, especially at the hands of the Clave against the Downworld, including against himself.

It took _centuries_ of fighting to get the measly rights and protections they have today, and even then it wasn’t _nearly enough_. Protections failed and rights were violated all the time. 

The downworlders were still seen as _less_ than the Nephilim. Apparently, a little demon blood made one incapable of controlling their monstrous impulses or so the Clave believed. Anyone was capable of losing control. It had nothing to do with blood.

Magnus felt a prickling spark between his fingers as his magic ignited. His glamour fell revealing his golden cat eyes. Inside, he was bubbling and boiling like a cauldron left unattended after sitting too long on a flame. The toxicity of it all was still as potent and timeless as ever. It felt like everything wrong the shadowhunters had ever done to his people only happened yesterday. 

Another disadvantage of immortality, a long and borderline resentful memory. Perhaps that was only a problem for him. Either way, time was a subjective thing. The life of a mundane or a shadowhunter was a blink of an eye to someone like him. Those atrocities, all the ones he’d ever seen or suffered though, the Nephilim responsible were long dead, but the feelings were still potent and ready to feed his resentment and rage.

_I need to remain calm._

_Look at them, they are young._

_They aren’t responsible for the past._

_They aren’t all bad._

Magnus refocused his cat eyes and attentions back onto the Nephilim at the bar and watched him grimace after taking a shot. _That’s kind of endearing_.

The longer he gazed after the man, the less it seemed to matter whether he was a shadowhunter or not. And it didn’t take long for an ever-growing attraction towards him to appear out of nowhere like a force beyond his control was trying to pull the two together. 

At first, Magnus fought it like he had been fighting temptation all night. _No drinks. No dancing. No distractions_. He knew he needed to remain focused until his special guests arrived, and he couldn’t afford to lose focus after everything he’d been through this summer. He owed it to his people. No matter how tempted he was tonight, Magnus needed to resist. 

_Another dose of irony._

_What a night_.

If his memory was accurate and it typically was, he remembered a file that the Clave kept on him. Spewing their ideas of what _kind_ of man he was like an absolute truth, when it was only _one_ perspective. By their standards, who was he to resist or try to out-run temptation? Wasn’t he the type to seek it? Unable to satisfy or control his _urges_...

 _I’m not like that_. 

_People try and try to evade and repress their desires, like it is some sort of moral plague._

_It can’t be destroyed only repressed._

_One way or another, we are all weak when it comes to our desires-._

_And we all give in._

_It’s only a matter of time._

_I’ve never been able to walk away from what I want._

_Even when it turns out badly._

_Maybe I could allow myself a few minutes-._

Magnus needed no more permission than that, he glided along the catwalk, descended the stairs with hurried grace, not paying any mind to the dancing downworlders that were between him and the man that piqued his fascination. As people recognized him, he found the sea of people parting for him. He never had to weave and wade through the crowd. Being Magnus Bane had its perks. Not once did he take his eyes off the young man sitting at his bar. 

One disadvantage of being _who_ he was, many downworlders beckoned and begged for his attention. Inviting him to join in their distraction, but he wasn’t interested. Only _one person_ interested him enough and he found that he desired only the distraction that a certain Nephilim could offer. He couldn’t be dissuaded. _Not tonight, I need to meet him_. 

_There’s something between us._

_It’s powerful._

_I’ve never felt anything like it._

_How are you doing this to me_?

_Who are you?_

Magnus _paused_ at the edge of the crowd, not out of hesitation or nerves, but something picked at and prodded at him to savor this. The feeling of significance in a moment was not something he typically took notice of, after all, he had an eternity to create _many_ similar moments and...memories. 

One moment, particularly only a moment of meeting someone wasn’t anything significant or warranting any exclusive attention, and yet he somehow knew otherwise. Oddly enough, the _source_ felt similar to whatever was pulling him to this man. The only explanation was that they were somehow connected, and he wasn’t naive enough to tempt the wrath of fate. Whatever this was, it was _different_. And for that alone, he took a moment to stop and stare at the man at the bar. To take the time to remember this one moment.

_Oh for Lilith’s sake. Just look at him._

_What are the odds_? 

Everything about this Nephilim was enticing. How was it possible he HAD to have all of Magnus’ favorite mixture of physical traits. Pale, dark hair, and striking blue eyes. Check.

And what a devastatingly lethal combination it was.

_Fate is truly a cruel mistress._

Magnus couldn’t help but notice that the distracted young man was also marvelously _tall_. 

_Taller than me_ …

_Not that I’m complaining._

And those muscles. 

_How lusciously sinful_. 

Magnus was aware that Nephilim were soldiers and that came with a degree of physical expectations and maintenance but this was the first time in a _long time_ that he got to appreciate up close what that exactly meant.

_If Shadowhunters have one good quality, it’s their muscle definition._

_They never seem to disappoint, especially you, pretty boy._

He couldn’t help it, he let his eyes wander, shamelessly. What he saw, he liked. That attractively disheveled dark hair was awfully _tempting_.

_I wonder if it’s naturally just that messy or if he runs his hands through it._

_I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks._

_I want to run my hands through his hair._

Magnus’ gaze fell to those striking blue eyes, falling breathless. 

_Oh Lilith_.

From his eyes, his gaze fell to the Nephilim’s lips. 

_I want to kiss those lips_. 

And that jawline looked like it was sculpted from the finest marble, and if anyone was a good judge of _that_ , it was him. 

The Nephilim’s neck was pale and the muscles were sharply defined, but the most intoxicating thing about the man’s neck was the large rune drawn on it. Magnus didn’t know what it meant or what it allowed the young man to do, but he knew it was distracting like a target immediately drawing one’s eyes. The epitome of enticement. Magnus couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have a small taste, one kiss.

_No, no, no._

_I can’t be thinking like this. I spent too long disciplining my heart._

_Apparently it’s still weak._

_When will I learn?_

Magnus tried to distract himself, by letting his eyes fall further down, those lovely broad shoulders and those ample biceps were far from disappointing either.

_That shirt is a godsend._

The black see-through fabric was exquisite, it offered a sneak peek of the body beneath without having nothing left to the imagination. Magnus could just make out a well-sculpted chest and scattered runes along the man’s body.

_I never thought I’d find a Nephilim’s runes to be a kink of mine._

_Oh how wrong I was._

If all that wasn’t enough, the heavenly young man had a set of long muscular legs that were to die for and those skinny jeans hugged him in all the right places.

_Those jeans are definitely doing the devil’s work tonight._

_How gorgeously wicked._

It was noticeable by the man’s presence that he was closing himself off and hiding away his best assets. He likely had _no idea_ how attractive he truly was. As cliché as it sounded, attractiveness didn’t mean anyone was exempt from insecurity. It seemed likely if he was stone-cold sober, that level of discomfort could mean that the man would prefer to disappear into the wall behind him. 

_Is he a wallflower by choice_?

_Is he used to being overlooked in his world?_

_I wonder_ _if this is his first time at a club_.

Was it only the alcohol that rooted him to the spot? Or his friends? The young man kept unconsciously rubbing his hands up and down his firm forearms, and then rubbed his hands across the surface of his jeans. How much was nerves and how much was something else?

_Who made you like this?_

Magnus felt his heart skip a beat. It shouldn’t have been possible anymore. He even had to remind himself to breathe. 

_I’m feeling these symptoms for an absolute stranger, a Nephilim too_.

A forceful jerk drew him towards this shadowhunter.

_Oh God._

_This is a horrible idea._

_I should walk away._

_Why can’t I walk away?_

_I can’t do this_.

_I can’t let my walls fall again._

_I can’t let this Nephilim destroy me._

_I nearly didn’t make it last time._

No amount of restraint or denial could stop _this_.There are few things in life that were an absolute certainty like nature, and one way or another this-them seemed to be one of those forces. One could stumble or run away, but some things in life were sealed, _unchangeable_.

_I’m in trouble._

Magnus typically prided himself over his magical capabilities and his strength, but he didn’t feel strong in this moment or the moments since he set eyes on the Nephilim. His resistance felt frayed and weak as if he had been resisting this shadowhunter for centuries. He wasn’t certain _how_ that was possible, considering the young man could barely be in his twenties. Strand by strand his resistance snapped until only a single thread remained. 

_I’ve a choice to make_.

 _Once I make it, there may be no turning back_.

= = = = = =

“Is this seat taken?” Magnus purred, his golden cat eyes out of sight and hiding away behind a warm glamour.

_No need to frighten him away._

“Yes, wait. No-no, it’s not taken. You can sit here...”

Unable to help it, Magnus found himself smiling lustrously, a spark lighting within him. 

_He’s shy._

“Thank you, darling,” Magnus said, claiming the leather stool closest to the man and angled his body towards him, shamelessly showing off what he was given in this long life.

_He’s checking me out. How adorable. I wonder what he is thinking._

“Can I buy you a drink?” Magnus asked, tilting his head playfully to the side, and hoping that the handsome man would accept.

It seemed that was key to tearing the Nephilim from his trance that he had been trapped in ever since his eyes landed on Magnus.

_I’ve never done that to someone before._

_It’s like I’ve put a spell on him._

_I see the desire, but there’s something else there too._

_No one has ever looked at me like that before._

_What is that?_

_Oh…_

_It’s awe._

_I never want that look to disappear._

“Y-yes, I’d like that,” He said, and Magnus could see those eyes filled with anxiety and by the looks of it, a growing frustration.

_Is he nervous because of me?_

_I wonder if he isn’t normally like this._

Magnus motioned for the bartender, Mitchel, who promptly approached. Unlike his dear Nephilim here, Mitchel also had that favorable combination, though it didn’t do him any favors. Everything about his bartender was unnatural and unnerving. _That might be for another reason entirely though_. Magnus couldn’t help but chuckle, this night was already turning out better than he expected.

Not actually having to order was an owner’s perk, as his employees already knew what he liked. Mitchel brought over two flawlessly frosted martinis and left them to their solitude.

Magnus offered the glass, and he swore he felt a spark as the young man’s hand brushed his. _Wow_. Hiding his shock by wearing an amused smirk on his lips. This endearing man couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of Magnus. _How intoxicating_. A tingle ran through his spine to the tips of his fingers. Unlike last time in the catwalks above, this sensation was far from unpleasant.

_Those eyes, I never want to look away._

Magnus stared and sipped his martini, the clear liquid chill against his lips. Effortlessly, the two fell into a relaxed silence, well at least for Magnus.

_I want to flirt with him._

“See something you like, gorgeous?” Magnus asked, teasingly unable to resist the impulse.

“I uh-I-it wasn’t, I-I’m not like that.” 

_Oh, you are divine._

“I find your attention deeply desirable,” Magnus confessed, letting his eyes readily check out the other, once _again_. 

_He’s blushing._

_For Lilith’s sake. How irresistible is he?_

_If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s the one to put a spell on me._

“I find you devastatingly gorgeous too, if you were curious” Magnus disclosed.

He desperately hoped to elicit another blush from the man before him. While he waited, rather patiently, for the desired reaction, he brought the martini glass to his lower lip impishly. It didn’t matter that the lighting wasn’t the greatest, he just wanted to see the man blush again. He wanted this more than anything.

_I wish I had more time to explore whatever this is._

Magnus watched the shadowhunter open and close his mouth again and again. It should have been awkward or embarrassing, but Magnus just found the whole sight charming. He could tell the man was trying to form words. In this case, the intention was far more rewarding than the result. _I’ve never known anyone like him, I can already tell_.

_He’s afraid…and yet there is a defiance in those eyes._

_He’s a fighter._

_That desire is addictive._

_I don’t think I can get enough…_

_How does he come off that innocent?_

_Or intense_?

 _I don’t understand this Nephilim, but I want to_.

In the refreshing silence, Magnus took a moment to breathe. He could smell the young Nephilim. An aroma of leather, metal, fresh laundry, and something earthy. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what the specific scent was, but it was like being flooded with fresh air after a rainstorm with possibly a hint of sea salt. Was he a storm that someone desired nothing more than to walk into? 

How could so much exist in one mortal?

As time passed and the silence endured, it became evident that the Nephilim was getting increasingly more embarrassed. Magnus didn’t think the shadowhunter was conscious of the pulling at the hem of his shirt in-between his nimble fingers, or that he blinked nervously. That was a shame only because those striking eyes were hidden by long dark eyelashes. Magnus didn’t want to miss a moment of savoring them.

_I could get lost in you pretty boy._

“Mr. Bane, the guests you were expecting have arrived. I’ve escorted them to your private lounge” James whispered in his ear. _Your timing is impeccable, James, as always._

That was enough to make Magnus’ chest ache with dismay. This moment, whatever it was, was coming to an end and he wasn’t remotely ready to leave. He wasn’t ready for this to end. 

_How disappointing._

_How do I leave now that I’ve met him_?

It was impulsive and likely the most foolish thing he had ever done in his entire life, but he couldn't pass the opportunity by. Without a word, he motioned for Mitchel to approach and stole a pad of paper and a pen out of his employee’s apron. Ignoring the raised eyebrows he received from his bartender, Magnus knew he could’ve used magic to make a card with his number on it appear out of thin air. He had cards, actually, and it would have taken little effort to make the phone number change from his business line to his personal one. Why was he going to the extra effort? He wasn’t entirely certain.

If he had to guess, it was because he wanted to take the time. This man was worth the effort. After he was finished, he tucked the pad and pen back into his employee’s apron albeit with one less sheet of paper. 

_Why am I giving him my personal number?_

“I wish I could stay. I hope you’ll use this” Magnus said apologetically, sliding the number towards the gorgeous man sitting before him, completely dumbstruck.

Magnus stood, straightening his clothing, and he took one last opportunity to take in the young man. _You’re one of a kind_.

Without hesitation, he turned away and walked towards his private lounge leaving their moment to the past.

_Don’t look back._

_Don’t look back._

There was no more time to spare for a better impression and no chance for a magical reappearance to smooth things over. How could he possibly be good company after what they needed to discuss? It was a choice he made, reluctantly, for his people.

_For Lilith’s sake, I hope he felt this too._

_I can’t be imagining this_.

_I need to focus._

_My desires will have to wait._

_My heart isn’t more important than the lives of my people_.

_I can’t let them down…_

= = = = = =

_I feel good._

_I feel free._

“Is this seat taken?” A smooth and velvety voice asked, catching Alec’s attention and his eyes peered over to the owner of such a voice.

_Oh my Angel._

Finding himself gawking and all rational thought abandoned or rather fleeing his mind. His eyes met the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his entire life. Not even Jace could hold a feather to this...man. 

_Who are you_? 

Alec would’ve sworn while holding the Mortal Sword, that this man stole the air out of his lungs and captivated every crack and crevice of his being.

 _I’ve never felt my heart race like this_. 

And all for a _stranger_. Pressing a hand to his chest, his heart skipped several beats before settling to a rapid rate like it often did when he ran, or in this case like he had been running for miles. As for the issue with his lungs, this breathlessness was worse than getting the air knocked out of his body during training by Jace a couple of weeks ago. Alec only just managed to force his lungs to do their damn job, taking in and releasing air. All he could hope for was that he didn’t forget to breathe entirely.

“Yes, _wait_. No-no, it’s not taken. You can sit there,” Alec mumbled, anxiously, his brain completely short-circuiting.

_Shit._

_I’m a disaster_.

A rapidly forming bundle of nerves twisted and writhed in his stomach. Not at all unpleasant, but it was _intense_. He couldn’t remember a time where his nerves ever felt like this. It wasn’t like the kind you can get before trying something new or speaking before a crowd. Nothing he had ever experienced in his life seemed fitting to compare to this moment in time. 

There was also a pleasant tension growing in those knots. As if all _that_ wasn’t enough, a fluttering flew in loops throughout his stomach. That, at the very least, was familiar. Attraction.

_How can I have butterflies for a stranger?_

_Is that even possible?_

“Thank you, darling.” 

Alec watched as the attractive man claimed the leather stool directly by his side. The proximity between them wasn’t helping his lungs as their legs were only separated by a space of inches, and if this kept up he wasn’t entirely certain he wasn’t going to have a heart attack. 

_What is this_?

 _He’s so different from Jace_ …

This man was as different from his parabatai as night and day. He was of similar height but that’s where the similarities stopped. Where Jace was all bulging muscles, this man was luxuriously lithe, every part of his body corded in lean but sharply cut muscle. He had warm golden-brown skin that looked impeccably smooth. Not a single rune, tattoo, or scar in sight. The way the man crossed one leg over another reminded Alec of a large cat. Without a doubt, he knew that this gorgeous man was a walking temptation and that should’ve been enough to make him flee. And yet, he had no desire to run. _Oh Raziel_.

_Those eyes._

This stranger had the most hypnotically beautiful brown eyes. Alec could see a stream of gold lively swirling around the iris. There was something alive within those eyes and something mature or aged through time. The lively nature was dramatically framed by a smoky, glittery eyeshadow, and molten silver eyeliner. Absolutely no one there was more stunning than this stranger. Not to Alec.

The man’s hair was shaved and faded on the sides, and the top looked like someone had purposefully run their hand through it, and yet it was somehow flawlessly styled. There were a few strands that were dyed burgundy and some strands that were coated in silver glitter.

_I want to run my hands through his hair._

It was clear this man has a fashion sense that rivaled his sister’s.

_He might have my sister beat_. 

_Not that I would tell her that_.

The beautiful man wore pressed black slacks that only managed to make his legs look teasingly lean and long. His burgundy button-down shirt was unbuttoned dangerously low nearing his navel, topped by a black blazer. The lights glimmered against a set of three necklaces of various lengths hanging against the skin and framed by that striking shirt. Alec couldn’t make out exactly what the necklaces looked like, but he knew they were of impeccable taste if this man was wearing them. As he watched, the man ran a hand through his hair. 

Almost every finger was adorned with various rings, and each nail was coated in a glossy black polish. Now, Alec’s type wasn’t _eccentric_ , in fact, he was certain that if anyone else tried to mimic this man it wouldn’t have caught his attention. Something about him was different and distinctive. By the Angel, he was _memorable_. There wasn’t a type like him. There was _only_ him.

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

Only the mysterious man’s voice was able to break him out of the trance he unknowingly fell into. And that’s when he realized he had once again been caught clearly staring at another man. Blinking, he attempted to compose himself before meeting the eyes of this stranger. He blushed. 

_I can’t believe I stared at him like that._

_Could I be any more shameless?_

_What must he think about me?_

“Y-yes, I’d like that” Alec answered anxiously. 

_For the Angel’s sake, why am I so nervous?_

_I’m the Head of the New York Institute._

_I know how to talk with people._

_Dammit._

_He’s going to think I’m an idiot._

_Wait-._

_Did I just allow him to buy me a drink?_

_Am I out of my damn mind?_

It didn’t take long for the bartender to bring over two drinks, and Alec watched dumbly as he was offered one. Alec accepted it, their hands brushing against one another, a tiny jolt of electricity at the short-lived contact. Once again he had no idea what the drink actually was or what to expect when he tasted it. All of this felt like a leap of faith, one that his feet jumped before he was capable of even thinking about it _first_. Taking a tentative sip, he only felt a faint burn, but it was better tasting than anything Jace ordered. _I wonder what this is_... 

Alec’s eyes were drawn to the stranger and he allowed them to _wander_.

_Is there nothing that isn’t attractive about this man?_

“See something you like, gorgeous?”

_Fuck_.

“I-uh-I-it wasn’t, I’m-I’m not like that” Alec answered messily and the harder he tried to explain, to justify himself, the more _impossible_ it was to keep his cool. 

“I find your attention deeply desirable...” 

_Oh Angel._

_He’s checking me out._

_He likes what he sees_. 

Alec blushed brightly and rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans.

_What do I say now?_

_Why do I want to say anything?_

_I shouldn’t be talking to him at all._

“I find you devastatingly gorgeous too if you were curious,” He said, holding his drink teasingly against his lower lip. _Oh Angel, those lips_.

_I shouldn’t like the way he speaks to me._

Alec opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to get words past the infuriating lump in his throat. No doubt about it, he knew he was gaping foolishly. Nothing was coming out and truthfully he was surprised anything-including air was getting in. Though it was arguable how much air was even getting into his lungs at this point. Unlike the temporary breathlessness he was accustomed to with training, fighting, or even with Jace. This wasn’t like that, it wasn’t fleeting but rather _settled_.

And as if to punish him for wasting precious time, a burly man in a suit came up to the beautiful stranger and whispered into his ear. It was strange, to say the least. He didn’t understand what was going on and only able to numbly watch as the beautiful stranger dismissed the man in the suit. 

_What was that?_

_What’s going on_?

Fortunately, he wasn’t gaping like an idiot any longer as he had managed to gain _some_ level of control over his own body. _Thank the Angel._

The mysterious stranger flourished his hand to summon the bartender. Taking a pad of paper and pen from the bartender’s apron, he wrote something on it before tearing the slip of paper away from the pad. All of it was over in the blink of an eye. Alec didn’t even see the pad or pen being returned before a slip of paper slid in _his_ direction. _Wait, what’s this_?

_M.B._

_1-212-341-1244_

“I wish I could stay. I hope you’ll use this...”

_Wait-_

_Don’t leave_!

And the mysterious man _vanished_. Rooted in shock, Alec was left without words and little idea how all of that happened or why it ended. He only had a slip of paper, a phone number to remember the enigmatic stranger by. It wasn’t enough. _I can’t believe it’s over_.

 _For Angel’s sake, I left the worst impression_. _What the hell just happened?_ _Where did he go?_

Alec's eyes wandered to the sea of people, searching the unfamiliar faces for a sign of the mysterious man. Only one face was familiar and it was his sister, fast approaching the bar. How long had passed since she first left? How long had Alec spent with that man?

The only thing he thought to do before she claimed the vacated seat next to him was to shove the slip of paper into his pocket. _There’s no way, I’m telling Izzy about this_.

_I don’t know what this is._

_I need to find out what that was with that man_.

 _I can’t leave it to end like-_.

“Who was that you were sitting with?” Izzy questioned, her eyes sparkling in glee.

_Shit._

_What do I say?_

_= = = = = =_

_Stop it._

_He’s only a man._

_I barely know him._

_I shouldn’t be thinking of him._

“It was no one, just a person getting a drink,” Alec answered, feeling the slip of paper burning a hole in his pocket. _Liar_.

“Was he attractive?” Izzy asked mischievously, clearly not discouraged. 

“I-I wouldn’t know” Alec commented uneasily, his eyebrows furrowed and he couldn’t meet her gaze. 

“Oh, he was! He must have been insanely hot! I can’t believe I _missed_ it” Izzy squealed, turning around and promptly scoured for a glimpse of the man that had been sitting with her brother. He was missing like he had never existed.

A wave of disappointment punched him in the gut again when even his sister came up empty-handed. _He’s really gone_.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It doesn’t matter” Alec said, firmly, attempting to believe his own lie.

Not once did Alec realize that he didn’t deny the fact that there had been a man sitting by him or that he found the mystery man insanely attractive. It didn’t seem like anything, but to Izzy, it was _hope_. Instead, he just stared down, distracting himself with the drink the mysterious man bought him by finishing it in one gulp. As fleeting as the man, how fitting.

_I need to be distracted._

“I think I promised you a dance,” Alec said, attempting to divert their attention away from the stranger and by the Angel he hoped it worked.

Alec didn’t want to spend the rest of the night haunted by a stranger he barely knew. No matter how beautiful. To be truthful, he could’ve done with less enthusiasm from his sister about his offer as she almost dislocated his shoulder dragging him onto the dance floor. As Izzy danced, it was clear this was her element. It was effortless for her.

 _I wish I was like Izzy_.

Alec swayed uncomfortably. His long limbs weren’t used to this sort of movement. With a little practice, the aid of liquid courage, and the fact no one paid him any mind he found his place. At first, he only mirrored the people around him, but it didn’t take long to truly find the appropriate pace within the music. Now, he didn’t dance close or against anyone as he preferred his own space. He wasn’t ready for all that. Or maybe, he just couldn’t find the _right_ partner. He managed to put the mystery man out of his mind, if only for a while. He knew a man like that was going to haunt him. The only question was for how long.

And yet, the most important thing was Alec found a path to peace that he never expected. It wasn’t peaceful or quiet on the dance floor and the farthest thing from silence. Somehow he found himself utterly lost. No nagging worries, thoughts, insecurities, or stress could reach him. He was untouchable and free.

= = = = = =

Magnus settled uncomfortably in the leather lounge upstairs, away from all the people, and resisting the itching impulse to return to the Nephilim he was forced to leave behind. _Stop_. 

_I need to focus_. 

The only people in the glass room were Raphael, Alaric, and himself. They were representing the vampires and werewolves, respectfully. Obviously, he was representing warlocks. The only group missing someone before him was the seelies. 

_Unsurprising._

_They tend to be a secretive people and they tend to look out only for their own._

_Not to mention, the Seelie Queen isn’t particularly fond of me these days._

Whatever was being said, discussed, or rather argued about between the two men, Magnus wasn’t certain. If he was being honest, he was beyond distracted which is exactly what he had been attempting to avoid all night. He was simply unable to focus on the words coming out of their mouths. He could _see_ their mouths moving and hear the sounds, but none of it sounded like a recognizable language. That was saying something as he spoke quite a few languages, _fluently_.

Instead of being a useful representative, he found himself daydreaming of a devastatingly gorgeous man all the while sipping and finishing his second martini of the night. So much for no alcohol tonight.

_I’m most certainly not drunk enough for this meeting._

“Magnus,” Raphael called out irritably, baring his fangs at him, “Pay attention.”

Raphael didn’t yell, he didn’t have to. It was like one’s child calling out, he pulled Magnus out of his head and out of his memory, nearly effortlessly. 

_Seems like that Nephilim isn’t the only one who can fall into a trance._

“I raised you with better manners than that my dear boy” Magnus smiled and wagged his finger to admonish Raphael, “I apologize, I was lost in thought.”

This was serious and he was not without his faults. He knew that.

“This is not the time for daydreaming. My clan is missing over a dozen vampires. None have been found, not even a trace to follow. Half of them disappeared after last being seen here, in your godforsaken nightclub” Raphael hissed, rather petulantly.

“ _Enough_ ” Magnus snapped and his glamour fell, “You’re not the only one missing family, I trust _you_ know what family means to me. I already apologized for being distracted.” 

Raphael had the decency to look ashamed by his behavior, and if he wasn’t undead he would probably be brightly flushed with embarrassment. Instead, his skin was simply ashen. 

After all, Magnus considered Raphael a son to him after the boy had been turned all those years ago. One of many downworlders he took under his wing over the span of his life.

“How many werewolves are missing?” Magnus asked, continuing on with business, his golden cat eyes falling on the dark haired men before him.

Magnus didn’t bother to put his glamour back into place. He didn’t care if it made the two men uncomfortable. This was _his_ nightclub and in this room, _he_ was the elder,

If that wasn’t _enough_ , the entirety of the Downworld was aware of what the electric blue feather tattoo glowing behind his ear _meant_. Officially speaking, Magnus was one of many High Warlocks, but unofficially he was one of nine of the most revered downworlders in the world. Technically speaking, of those nine only _two_ were known. If the people were going to only see _that_ , Magnus simply made it easier to see and owned it.

_Manners matter._

_I will not tolerate being disrespected in my own dominion_.

Alaric couldn’t meet his eyes, “Half-dozen of the pack are missing, but that is nothing compared to the number of missing mundanes. Luke and I have been spread thin lately. We are working on the Demonic murders, trying to keep track of these missing cases, and trying to find our people. It’s a nightmare. Their trails just _disappear_.” 

There were a few minutes of silence as Alaric took time to control his emotions and center himself. They didn’t need an unwanted werewolf transformation to add to their troubles, especially in a packed nightclub.

“There are over two dozen missing mundanes in the past six weeks alone. No trails and no evidence. It’s like they disappeared without a trace. I’m a homicide cop, and I can tell there is something seriously wrong going on. It doesn’t fit mundane behavior, they don’t just disappear like that” Alaric said shaking his head.

_Not even warlocks can find these humans._

_That’s not a good sign_. 

“Nine warlocks in the New York area have also disappeared,” Magnus reported heavily. 

It was excruciating to admit his failings. He didn’t know these warlocks personally but the sense of loss remained the same just as if he had lost Catarina or Ragnor. 

_They were my responsibility._

_I failed them._

_Possibly over thirty downworlders-_

_We don’t even know how many of the Seelie realm are missing._

The burden of this hit Magnus hard. It was worse than being drained of every last drop of his magic. His stomach churned, a surge of nausea spreading through him and curdling.

“Has anyone made contact with the New York Institute?” Magnus asked, leaning forward to pour himself a glass of wine, leaving the bottle on the table, and allowed himself a generous gulp of the rich beverage. It helped ease his stomach.

“No, our alpha wants it dealt within the pack” Alaric said bluntly. 

_Of course he does._

Magnus could _feel_ the tension in the air, all of it stemmed from the mere mention of calling on the aid of Shadowhunters, and naturally the disdain for them as well. It wasn’t unusual and even he felt similarly at times, but at this moment he couldn’t place his personal feelings above his people. It was time to involve the Nephilim or at least try to. Not all leaders could swallow their own pride like that though. Whether they would receive help from the Institute was a whole debate on its own.

“Camille can’t risk the Clave poking around the Hotel Dumort” Raphael answered, vaguely.

Magnus had his own suspicions about _that_ impending problem as he had known Camille for a _very_ long time. He knew what kind of person she was and her many proclivities. She had a tendency to do whatever she wished, the Accords and the Clave, be damned. That was a problem for another day. One he was almost certain he couldn’t avoid forever.

“Are they aware of the missing mundanes?” Magnus asked.

_What are the chances that on the day of this meeting, there are three Nephilim downstairs in my club._

_Is it related to the missing or murder cases?_

_Is it just coincidence?_

_It has to be._

_If they were here gathering information, the young Nephilim would’ve been armed to the teeth._

_He would’ve recognized me._

_Nephilim aren’t that sloppy._

“The missing cases seem to have slid under their radar. There’s nothing in those cases that would have raised any red flags in their databases. However, there is some _interest_ from the Clave in the investigation of the Demonic murders I’m working on. I’ve been seeing shadowhunters lurking near my crime scenes lately. I suspect that they will intervene _soon_. I’ll talk to Luke to see if he has been approached by them. It is more likely that they’d approach him anyway,” Alaric said.

Magnus could only manage to nod.

_Of course, Luke used to be one of them before he became a werewolf._

_Now, that he’s a downworlder-_

_He’s not one of them any longer, but he isn’t as bad as the rest of us._

_The Clave can’t help turning its back on anything that doesn’t fit their pristine perspective._

Magnus felt a familiar bubbling in his stomach, the flame within burning hot and dangerously. 

_Over thirty people that we know of are missing and the Clave has done nothing._

_There’s no way we can track how many missing mundanes..._

“Magnus, do you have any explanations?” Raphael asked. 

Magnus’ apprehension was eased by his appreciation towards his dear boy because he needed _someone_ to anchor him to the present and not allow his emotions from an _agonizingly_ long past to overwhelm him. It was as easy as saying his name. Magnus had never told Raphael this, but he had saved the warlock on more than one occasion.

“I do,” Magnus confessed, “Before I tell you, have either of you heard of any missing or murdered Nephilim?” 

_They can’t know why missing or murdered shadowhunters is significant._

_And I won’t reveal that there are three Nephilim downstairs_.

“I haven’t heard anything about any missing or dead shadowhunters. That kind of rumor doesn’t stay silent. You know how the Clave gets when it’s one of their own” Alaric said, the contempt in his voice was suffocating.

“Are you going to share your thoughts with us _tonight_?” Raphael asked irritably. “Some of us don’t have all night.”

“I’m getting there,” Magnus said dismissively, “I need you two to realize that these are only my thoughts. Merely, theories, if you will... And for Lilith’s sake, don’t tell anyone unless absolutely necessary. Our world would crumble with panic if this information got into the wrong hands.” _This isn’t going to go well._

“I trust you, Magnus, you can place your faith in me. I won’t tell anyone except for Luke. I need a lead to help our people,” Alaric said sincerely.

“I promise you, on the grave of my mother, I will not breathe a word of this to anyone,” Raphael said. _You and irony, Raph_.

If this had been a pleasurable visit, Magnus would have laughed but he couldn’t manage it with everything stewing in his mind. Sighing, he took a generous gulp of wine, attempting to find where to _begin_.

“I have two theories, actually. First and foremost, it's possible a rogue Nephilim is hunting downworlders and the disappearances of the mundanes is something else entirely” Magnus disclosed, readily. 

“What’s the other one?” Alaric asked impatiently. 

“The second theory is that we are dealing with the early stages of a resurgence of the Circle” Magnus admitted, a heaviness instantly settling over the room, raw and suffocating.

_I can’t tell them anymore._

_I can’t tell them I suspect a return of Valentine Morgenstern._

_Not until I’m absolutely certain._

_I’ve always known it was possible that he survived-_

_But there’s no tangible proof._

“Fuck!” Alaric cursed, running his hands through his unshaved stubble.

Magnus could vividly see the glimmer of panic and fear reflecting in his companion’s dark eyes. That _look_ was unsettlingly familiar and those were the looks of people who had never personally been face to face with the Circle or their leader. The ones who had been were forever scarred by the memories or dead. 

“Valentine is dead. The Circle died with him” Alaric denied, trying to convince not only everyone else, but himself. After all, it was the entire Downworld’s worst nightmare all over again.

The more Magnus sat on these theories of his, the more likely he thought that one of them was correct. _Please._

_Please._

_Just be a rogue shadowhunter._

“For now, let’s proceed with an abundance of caution. We need to keep a closer track of our people to our best ability. It’s too soon to panic, go into hiding, or become violent. It’s also unhelpful until we know what we are dealing with” Magnus asserted firmly, “We need to be cautious. If either of my theories are correct, the Clave is going to be a significant problem for us. We can’t fare trying to manage all these missing cases and being at odds with the Clave. We need to adhere to the Accords closer now than ever.” 

“I’ll see what I can do to keep the vampires under control. Camille could be a problem for us” Raphael said.

“I need you to see how much control you can exert before we take any steps against Camille,” Magnus directed, closing his eyes as a cauldron of concentrated pain spilled over inside, threatening to burn the lining of his heart piece by piece. Some _betrayals_ were more stubborn than others and nearly all of them took more time to heal than one liked. 

“What will you do?” Alaric asked, his eyes never wavering from the warlock. “Unfortunately, I will have to go see Maryse and Robert Lightwood, the Heads of the New York Institute” Magnus answered reluctantly. 

_Lightwoods, especially Maryse, are unpleasant._

“I don’t envy you, but I do trust you to do what’s best for us all,” Alaric commented.

“Don’t you have a history with the Lightwoods?” Raphael asked as if he was trying to remember something from another lifetime even though it had not even been twenty years.

“I do, but I would never put my own distaste above our people,” Magnus answered unwaveringly.

“What the hell are we going to do if the Circle returns?” Alaric asked, his underlying fear tainting his words. 

_Thank Lilith for Alaric’s one-track thought process right now._

_I’m not ready to talk about my history with the Lightwoods_.

 _I’m not drunk enough to relive that_.

“I don’t have any reassurances for you. I’m hoping I’m wrong. Whether or not this is the Circle, that ideology of angelic superiority permeates the Nephilim world. Even after the Circle was demolished, that dangerous poison remained hidden within the Clave. It was impossible to discern back then how far it spread or how much still remains,” Magnus shared, as he was the only one in this room that had any idea what all this truly meant. 

Neither Alaric nor Raphael were involved beyond vague recognition the last time the Circle walked freely. They knew what the Circle did but they couldn’t _understand_ it like someone who lived it. Not like him, witnessing the distress and death that was every day for years. Then there was the Uprising. 

_I was one of the few survivors of that massacre_. 

“The red circular runes on their necks aren't enough?” Raphael asked, hissing as he bared his fangs in a flash of fury.

“It’s not that _simple_. Not all those who believed in Valentine or his ideas were active Circle members, as they are the only ones who received his brand. I’m less concerned about them. They are easy to find. I’m worried about the devotees that have managed to hide all this time, the ones hiding within their positions” Magnus protested, frowning.

“How many ex-Circle members, active or inactive, are there in the New York Institute?” Alaric asked. 

“As far as I’m aware, there are _three_ ,” Magnus admitted gravely. 

_I don’t know if they truly repented for their sins…_

_Or if they are just biding their time._

_But at least I’m aware of them._

_The ones hiding in the shadows worry me more than I’m willing to admit._

“I think we’ve discussed this enough for one night. Be watchful, be careful, and stick to the Accords. Keep in touch, I need to know if more of our people disappear” Magnus directed, standing and stretching his stiff limbs.

Raphael didn’t say anything, he only inclined his head respectfully before leaving the nightclub altogether. Pandemonium was never his thing, it was likely he was returning to the Hotel Dumort, to keep a watchful eye over his family. His loyalty was admirable, and one of his best traits. 

“Thank you,” Alaric said, taking his leave, and Magnus had only the vaguest idea that he was likely either returning to the Station or the Jade Wolf. 

Magnus turned to the glass window that overlooked his club. All the guests were drinking and dancing with heavenly abandon. They had _no idea_ that their world was unsafe due to the emerging unknown danger.

_I need to find out what is going on._

_I need to stop it._

Magnus searched the faces until he found the three Nephilim, it seems they had gathered close to one another, dancing. For the first time this evening, none of them had partners. That didn’t seem to diminish their joy. Magnus focused on the young Nephilim man with piercing blue eyes and messy black hair. _I was right, he towers over the people around him_.

Magnus watched him dance. He wasn’t dancing to impress anyone, but Magnus could tell he was _lost_ in the music. Simply enchanting. _I wish I could be dancing with you_. 

Magnus smiled until that moment where _something_ shifted for the worst within him. It wasn’t his wall. A surge of fear sparked through his entire body and it threatened to overtake the warlock. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel the _weight_ of fear in the privacy of isolation. No watchful eyes or eavesdropping ears. Thankfully, being alone meant he was allowed to have a weakness, to feel, to be alive. Not something he usually could afford in his position, officially or unofficially. As far as Magnus Bane was concerned, people _needed_ him to be strong and steady. To have the answers to all of life’s problems. If he was afraid, well it was for the best that he hid that away from sight.

_What if I’m right?_

This Nephilim couldn’t be very old and certainly wasn’t old enough to know much if anything about the Circle or the Uprising. How could he possibly know what it was like when shadowhunter turned on shadowhunter? _He is so young and innocent_. 

_The Clave made certain no one would know. They didn’t want anyone to know they’re corruptible. They can’t accept they_ are _capable of being monsters, just like the demons they hunt._

_How many lives could this deception cost?_

For whatever reason, Magnus remembered the way the other man had _looked_ at him earlier. 

_There was no hate in him._

_How many Nephilim are like him_?

If the Circle resurfaced, how many Nephilim could face the horrific pasts of their ancestors? Their people? It wasn’t easy to ask anyone to face a hard truth, not when there was a comforting lie protecting them. Even if that protection was only deception in disguise.

_Will they be able to resist the temptation of the status quo? Will they rise up and be strong enough to resist the corruption of the Clave?_

_Will they have the bravery to confront the evil in their own kind?_

_Will this end in a bloodbath_?

Worrying about all of this was... _draining_. Feeling older, far more exhausted, and melancholic than he had in _years_. For just a little while, he just wanted to watch the shadowhunter dance and think about nothing else except for what kind of man he was. 

_Who are you?_

_What do you believe in?_

Magnus knew that none of this could be solved tonight and he was far too sober and morose to be good company. As he predicted. All of this mess was bringing back horrific memories of blood and death. Not only the ones that ensnared the mind but the senses as well. Perhaps, tonight he could wish to forget but he knew he was cursed to remember it all. 

August 13th 2016, 1:43 am

Alec stumbled into his bedroom back at the Institute and it was only for the sake of the runes on his body that he remained upright on his feet at all. He had never felt such a pleasant heaviness to his body and all he wanted to do now was sleep. Collapsing onto his bed, he carelessly pulled off his shoes and socks, all before trying to tackle the puzzle that was his button up shirt. He had no patience and probably not even the skill to manage it without breaking a button or two off the shirt. _My sister will kill me if I ruin this shirt_. It was honest-to-god, too much effort and that left him with one option, pulling it over his head and hoping nothing got caught.

He felt great. Everything ached from the soles of his feet to his arms, but the most unfamiliar ache was his cheeks. He can’t remember the last time he smiled so damn much. 

_I felt free._

_I felt like I could be me._

Alec emptied his pockets, depositing his prayer string, wallet, keys, and phone on his bedside table. All that was left was a crumbled-up slip of paper. _What’s this_? Alec pulled it out and unraveled it, revealing a phone number, and reigniting the memory of the mystery man.

It was all coming back to him.

_Oh my Angel. He gave me his number._

Alec carefully put the number to the side while he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off until all he was wearing to bed was his boxer briefs. The rest of his clothes were in a heap on his floor and something he would take care of in the morning. For now, it wasn’t important. Alec climbed up into his bed before he took the slip of paper and his phone and decided to enter it in his contacts. 

_I just want to have it._

Alec let his thumb flutter over the text icon for the newly made contact. Whether he was hesitating to press it or to not press it was too complicated to think about. _Press it. Press it_.

After all, what was stopping him? To his alcohol-addled brain, there was no good reason not to text. It wasn’t that late, right? It was never too late for a text. He knew, even drunk, that this was the most impulsive decision of his life.

For once, he would leap before looking and it felt fucking great. 

_I want to talk to him._

_I want to show him I’m not such a disaster._

> **Alec** : Hey... M.B? You gave me your number at Pandemonium.  
> 

> **M.B** : Yes, darling. I remember.

> **M.B** : You’re the man with the unforgettable eyes.

> **M.B** : I never did catch your name.

Alec stared at the screen, biting his lower lip. 

_How should I answer?_

> **Alec** : What would you like to call me?

> **M.B** : Pretty boy?

> **M.B** : Blue-eyes?

> **M.B** : Good-looking?

> **M.B** : Handsome?

> **M.B** : Gorgeous?

> **M.B** : Beautiful?

> **M.B** : Do any of those appeal to you?

Alec felt his face grow warm and yet he didn’t feel at all embarrassed. It was flattering. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention and he found he _liked_ it. 

_Oh Angel, he thinks I’m attractive_. 

Alec’s lips pulled into a lopsided grin, the ache in his cheeks reminding him that his sister had been right. This had been a good night, maybe even a great night.

> **Alec** : Coming from you, I like any of them.

> **M.B** : I enjoyed our time together.

> **Alec** : Me too.

> **M.B** : Maybe we can meet up again?

> **Alec** : Yes, I’d like that.

> **M.B** : I look forward to it.

> **M.B:** Goodnight, gorgeous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested in joining a wonderful community of supportive multi-fandom writers and consumers. Come join our lovely chaos-
> 
> [The Fandom Playhouse!](https://discord.gg/82pvdE39fD)
> 
> You can find me here (Tumblr):  
> [Evi Ethereal](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fairytalewriter)
> 
> And you can find me on twitter over here:  
> [Evi Ethereal](https://twitter.com/EviEthereal)
> 
> My beta created this for live-blogging or what-not on Twitter? #BTWfic
> 
> (I won't lie I'm terrible at using Twitter. Oops)

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in joining a wonderful community of supportive multi-fandom writers and readers. Come join our lovely chaos-
> 
> [The Fandom Playhouse!](https://discord.gg/82pvdE39fD)
> 
> You can find me here (Tumblr):  
> [Evi Ethereal](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fairytalewriter)
> 
> And you can find me on twitter over here:  
> [Evi Ethereal](https://twitter.com/EviEthereal)
> 
> My beta created this for live-blogging or what-not on Twitter? #BTWfic
> 
> (I won't lie I'm terrible at using Twitter. Oops)


End file.
